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)

33. Chapter 33: Daddy's Home

Rated T: Violence and bloodshed, magic-wise, and an attempt to use a knife.

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

Okay, you all get a bonus chapter for being so patient and good, and because the last chapter was shorter than normal and this one is the longest ever, (about 15,000 words!). So I hope you enjoy the bonus and I am keeping my fingers crossed that the climax turned out okay. Next chapter will be climactic too, but I'm still playing around with what I want to happen, so no promises on when that's going to be out.

Again, you all are awesome and thank you for your patience, and I here present to you the fruits of my labor!

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

Chapter 33: Daddy's Home

Harry was restless again. He had tried to be good today, he really had. But he was bored and he had too much energy and he wanted the Professor back. He poked at the healing skin on his burned hand, and he jumped on the bed until Kooky came and scolded him for it, and gave him a magic sting on his bum too. He didn't want to concentrate on his schoolwork and he whined about going outside. He had not seen the sun in days and he almost started to cry when the grouchy elf sneered at him that he needed to be good if he wanted to go out into the garden today. Or any time, really. Harry lost his temper and smashed the ink bottle when he pushed everything off his little work-desk. Kooky stung him and stuck him in the corner between the wall and the tall wardrobe in his room after another angry scolding. Harry shed a few tears, mostly at himself for being so stupid and ungrateful. Really, even though he was a prisoner here with a grouchy elf, it was loads better than Privet Drive, so he shouldn't be complaining. But he wished Snuffles would come rescue him again. Or the Professor. That would be best, he figured. Snuffles was nice and all, but the Professor was better at taking care of him.

He was still standing in the corner, slumped against the wall and sniffling because Kooky made him keep his hands behind his back and would not allow him to wipe his tears or his nose. He hoped he wasn't going to be kept here much longer. His legs were starting to ache. Suddenly, he heard a door open, and not just any door; it was the door to the next room where he did his lessons and ate his meals. He stiffened up so Kooky wouldn't think he was being lazy and give him more time, but a different voice greeted him.

"Harry?"

He definitely did not want to turn around now. It was the old creepy Headmaster. Sniffing, he could smell a slight lemony scent in the air despite his clogged nose.

"Harry, you can turn around now," the old man said kindly. "Kooky told me that you have been very obedient in the corner."

Harry slowly turned around, wiping his eyes on his sleeves and wishing he had a handkerchief or a napkin for his nose. He thought of the Professor's hankie, but it was in his bag right now and he didn't know what the Headmaster wanted. As he turned, Harry was not really surprised that the Headmaster was so close to him, but the old man held out a handkerchief with a friendly smile. His blue eyes were shining kindly behind his little spectacles and Harry almost wanted to relax and maybe smile back, but he didn't trust the old man. He glanced at the handkerchief and wiped his nose on his sleeve instead of taking it. The smell of lemons made him feel uneasy, and now the old man looked disappointed, which made Harry wince with apprehension.

"'M sorry, sir," Harry mumbled, looking down at his sneakers, one of which was untied. "Di'n't mean to be bad."

"You were not bad, dear boy," the Headmaster said gently. "Kooky tells me you've been feeling a bit cooped up, am I right?"

Harry glanced up before he nodded reluctantly. Did the Headmaster think he was apologizing for knocking his schoolwork on the floor? Well, he was good at agreeing with grown-ups. He would just agree and maybe things would go back to normal; whatever 'normal' was supposed to be. He didn't know anymore. His life had been turned completely upside down ever since he got bitten by the Wolf.

"Are you unhappy here, Harry?" the old man asked, sounding sad.

Harry hesitated, but then he nodded, and then he emphatically shook his head. He looked up at the old man desperately, wondering what the right answer was. "I don't know, sir," he said softly.

The Headmaster sighed, looking tired and very old. "Would you rather be back with your Aunt?" he asked.

"No sir!" Harry gasped, starting to tremble. "I'll be good, I promise! Please, please don't send me back!"

The old man looked like he winced and then he smiled kindly before Harry could even wonder what that was for. "Don't worry, child," he said soothingly. "I won't allow you to go back. But I'm afraid there are not many places for you to go. I am sorry you are not very happy here; it is a lonely place and Kooky can be a bit … much."

"S'not so bad," Harry mumbled, playing nervously with the hem of his shirt.

"But you must make the most of things," the Headmaster went on. "Here you are safe from Black and other people who want to hurt you."

Harry shrugged, but he didn't know quite how to say that Snuffles wasn't a bad guy and wouldn't hurt him. Not on purpose anyway. He honestly didn't think anybody was out to hurt him except maybe the Werewolf or definitely his Aunt and Uncle … so he just kept quiet. Grown-ups said stupid things a lot of the time, and there wasn't anything he could do or say about it, so he kept quiet.

"Harry, I wanted to talk to you about Professor Snape," the old man suddenly announced.

Harry blinked and then stiffened warily. "Sir?" he said cautiously.

"Did the Professor ever talk to you about your parents?"

"Um … not really?" Harry said in a tone that sounded like a guess more than an answer.

The Headmaster smiled and sat down on Harry's bed. He patted the spot next to him. "Why don't you come tell me what he said?"

The boy stared at him, wondering whether he ought to obey. He was still feeling kind of belligerent and he really didn't want to talk to the Headmaster about his Professor, not when the old man was keeping him away from Professor Snape in the first place.

"Harry; please," the old man said gently, but with a hint of sternness in his voice.

Harry obeyed, although reluctantly. He dragged his feet to the bed and slowly climbed up. When he was sitting next to the Headmaster, he looked down at his lap and started picking at his nails.

"Did Professor Snape tell you anything about your parents?" the old Headmaster asked again.

"Told me they're dead," Harry mumbled. "Wasn't a car accident."

"What else?"

Harry dragged in a sharp breath, fighting sudden tears that burned his eyes. Why did the old man want to know? He didn't want to talk about it. That conversation was something special, between him and the Professor. Did the Headmaster really need to know? Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had lots of conversations with him they said were nobody else's business.

Harry shrugged.

"Please, dear boy," the old man said coaxingly. "The Professor … he may be in some trouble. I need to know what he talked to you about. Did he ever tell you about your mother?"

"Friend," Harry muttered, squirming under the Headmaster's gaze, and he wasn't even looking up. He could just feel that old man looking at him … looking through him. He didn't like it. And why would talking about his parents help the Professor get out of trouble? He hadn't seen his Professor since he left the Weasleys' house, and he had no way of knowing if his Professor was alright or not.

"He told you your mother was his friend?"

"Cooked omelets," the boy whispered, fighting more stupid tears. He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve again.

"Your mother cooked omelets?" the old Headmaster repeated, sounding confused.

Harry shrugged again.

"Harry, I can't help the Professor if you do not wish to speak to me. Did Professor Snape say anything else? About … your father, perhaps?"

I don't know why stuff like that would help, Harry thought rebelliously. He didn't say it out loud, though. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.

"Harry?"

"Don't know," Harry mumbled, reaching up to wipe his tears as they spilled over again.

"Did the Professor act … odd? Did he say strange things or seem to fall into … daydreams?"

Harry finally looked up, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Huh?"

The Headmaster didn't get a chance to reply because Kooky suddenly appeared in a loud pop.

"Master!" the elf croaked loudly. "There be invaders coming! Wards be breached and they be rushing in! Kooky saw two animals and a wizard and a Werewolf!"

Harry blinked in confusion and looked up at the old man. His wrinkled face shuttered for an instant before he seemed to make a decision. He stood up, looking tall and terrible and terrifying.

"Let me handle them, Kooky," the Headmaster said, all traces of his gentleness and kindness gone. He really looked kind of scary now. "Stay with Harry. If they come here, I need you to get him to safety. Do you understand?"

"Where does Master want Kooky to take the boy?" the elf huffed, giving Harry a resentful glare.

"Take him to the Hogwarts kitchens and leave him with the elves," the old man replied, striding swiftly toward the heavy bedroom door. "If you need to take Harry away, return here to help me."

The door boomed shut behind the old man and Harry threw the elf a scared look. Kooky snarled silently at him and Harry scrambled off the bed, his heart pounding in his chest as he wondered what was going on and what he should do. But he suddenly realized that his heart was not the only thing throbbing behind his breastbone. He felt that warmth from before, pulsing and tugging somehow, and it was growing stronger. After a second's thought, Harry dove for the wardrobe and yanked it open, scrambling for his bag. When he found his sweater, he pulled it on over his T-shirt, hoping that it would be enough if his skin starting glowing again from the inside out.

"Boy must be sitting down," Kooky suddenly snapped in his hoarse voice. "Kooky be taking care of you; no need for panic."

Harry nodded, but he didn't obey. He shoved anything of his into the bag the Professor had given him, but made sure the three empty potion bottles were on the outside in case he needed something to throw. Suddenly, he wondered if he was freaking out over nothing.

"Kooky?" Harry said timidly. "W-was one of the animals a dog?"

Kooky's bulging eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why does boy want to know?" the elf demanded.

"'Cause Snuffles is a big black dog, and he's nice," Harry explained in a rush. "And maybe he thought I was in trouble again. And my Professor's really tall and scary and scowly, and he's got black hair like me and his eyes are black too."

Kooky stared, or rather glared, at Harry for what felt like a very long time. "There be's a black dog an' a snarly black wizard," the elf finally muttered. "Boy knows the invaders of Master's house?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. His Professor really had come for him, just like he promised. And Snuffles was here too, even though he fought the Professor last time. They came to save him! "My Professor an' Snuffles," Harry breathed, his voice shaking with excitement. "Can't you take me to them?"

"Master has given Kooky orders," the house elf growled. "Boy cannot give orders."

"But they'll leave that old Headmaster alone, I think, if they find me!" Harry shouted desperately.

"Doesn't matters," Kooky hissed. "Boy be silent now; follow Master's orders."

"He's not my master!" Harry yelled. The elf snarled at him and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Harry's jaw clicked shut. He couldn't move his mouth at all, though he could still make noises with his throat if he tried. Scowling at the mean house elf, Harry sat down on the floor with his arm crossed angrily and his bag in his lap. The elf ignored him and just stood there, glowering and probably listening for trouble. Everything was quiet.

Then a rumbling started from under the floor, and both Harry and Kooky looked up at each other in alarm.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

Severus' blood sang with adrenaline, and one glance at Lupin told him he wasn't the only one. The Werewolf's eyes glittered with gold streaks and his normally mild expression was firm and determined. Bumblebee Manor rose up out of the surrounding trees like a mysterious castle and the surrounding wards sparkled in the air, responding to Severus' revealing spell. It was one he'd invented and Dumbledore had never countered. Waving his wand and muttering under his breath, Severus picked the threads apart while he waited for the cat and dog animagi to finish their inspection of the house.

The glowing yellow wards in front of him suddenly shifted to orange and then red, alerting Severus that they were about to snap and that if Dumbledore was in the area, he would sense them breaking. Severus waited, glancing at Lupin who nodded back. The sound of a dog howling was the signal, and the Potions-Master slashed his wand, directing his ward-piercing spell to finish. The wards snapped and the ground shuddered slightly as the powerful magic was broken. As the taut strands of the wards snapped, they sent flecks of powerful magic scattering over Severus and Lupin. Snape shivered at the sensation of smelling lemons. His intellect knew he could not really smell lemons, but Dumbledore's magic was associated with that scent in his mind.

"Do you smell lemons?" Lupin suddenly asked, his face pinched in worry.

Severus gave him a sharp glance, and then charged forward. "Hmm, glad to know I'm not the only one," he muttered in reply.

They met the two animagi at a garden gate which stood open. Minerva had likely shifted, spelled the gate open, and then shifted back to a cat. The feline jumped on Severus and climbed onto his shoulder. He grumbled, but settled the cat more comfortably on his shoulder before he followed Black's huge canine shape through a hushed, overcrowded garden. It seemed everything associated with Dumbledore was overcrowded and chaotic, Severus thought, turning up his nose at the disorganized array of plants and flowers in the moonlight. Lupin was the rear guard and he spelled the garden gate so it wouldn't be closed without significant effort. They would need all the escape routes they could get. Severus raised his wand and cast a detection spell that would slice through most protections. He felt the effort of the powerful charm like a punch to the gut, but it was worth it.

"The old man is with Harry in the North tower," he told his fellow conspirators. "There is a house elf in the area as well … Ah, Dumbledore just cloaked himself from my spell."

"He knows we're here," Lupin muttered. "Any changes to the plan?"

"Need I remind you, he's only one man," Severus said sharply. "He cannot be in two places at once, which is what the plan relies on. Lupin, take Black and I'll take Minerva. We split up here."

"It's more than likely he'll go after you and send the elf after us," Lupin replied, sounding worried. "Can you handle that?"

Severus sneered. "Please; Minerva knows Dumbledore better than all of us, and surely you and Black can handle one little elf. Just don't kill it."

"Right," Lupin nodded reluctantly. He whistled sharply at Black, whose canine head turned at once. Lupin flashed his hands in a series of some sort of sign language movements, and the two of them hurried off into the overgrown garden on their left, vanishing from sight and sound in a matter of seconds. Severus and the cat on his shoulder continued on toward the garden door.

They passed through a verandah overgrown with ivy and honeysuckle vines and reached the terrace near the house's garden door. Severus spread out one hand and cast another ward-detection spell. He was surprised that a simple Alohomora would open this one.

"It's a trap," Severus muttered.

The cat meowed softly in agreement, tail twitching against his neck.

The Potions Professor smirked slightly. "You're right; we should spring it."

Severus twisted his wand sharply. "Alohomora," he growled. The door clicked and Severus threw it open with a gust of wind. The inside of the house was dark and silent. The Potions Master sighed and shook his head. The cat jumped off his shoulder and disappeared inside, and Severus had little choice but to follow.

He stepped into Bumblebee Manor, half-expecting the door to crash shut behind him and maniacal laughter to start echoing around him … But that would be the Dark Lord's preferred move, not Dumbledore's. The old man would be waiting in the nearest sitting room with tea and cakes and a poisonous smile. But they were not here for the old manipulator.

"We are not looking to fight," Severus hissed, hoping McGonegall could hear him.

He did not hear a reply, but that didn't bother him. If Minerva heard, she would listen. If she hadn't, there was no use in repeating himself to an empty room. Following the tug of the magical bond he sensed with the boy, Severus moved forward without hesitation. He knew which part of the house they were in, and he confidently took a broad staircase up into the darkness. He met with no resistance and reached the second floor in silence. He still didn't know if Minerva had come up, either behind or ahead of him, but he could trust that she had his back in either case.

He paused to consult his memory of this part of Dumbledore's house before he continued up the wide hall and turned at the far end. A curtained window stood here with some moonlight falling through the threads. He turned left and started up the next flight of stairs. Access to the North tower was on the third floor only, although there was a secret passage down from the tower to a private garden, only accessible from the inside. He sort of planned to make that a tentative escape route, but the whole tower and garden had wards like a prison, made to keep everything in that was supposed to be, and anything out that wasn't supposed to come in. He was confident he could perhaps blow up the wall with one or two of the concoctions in his pocket or in the pockets of his companions … but he wanted to avoid damaging Dumbledore's property any more than he had to. If this came to a court hearing, he would prefer having as few charges as possible to his name.

He was distracted by his thoughts and overconfident. He should have noticed the faint tingle of magic right in front of him before the stairs opened up. Severus shouted and scrambled for a handhold, but he fell into a yawning dark chasm, tumbling head over heels. Two seconds later, he landed very painfully on his back. There was a carpet under him, which had probably saved his skull from cracking open, but all the wind had been knocked out of him and his head rang painfully. One of his shoulders had taken the impact harder than the other and shooting pains raced from his shoulder, down his arm and back, and up to his skull. He gasped when he had breath to do so again, and shut his eyes tightly as he struggled to deal with the pain.

"Severus."

The Potions-Master gasped again at the familiar voice and scrambled up on his hands and knees, ignoring the pain that was so severe it almost brought tears to his eyes.

There was a little bit of light in the room. It was a box-like chamber of stone, without windows or defining features or a visible door. The carpet in the middle and a small table nearby were the only furniture. On the table was a row of glowing bottles. Severus froze at the sight. Like blue mist, the swirling contents of the corked bottles shifted and moved, making the weird blue light dance over the walls like water.

Memories.

"Severus, I hoped we could talk," the old man's voice came again, though he was nowhere to be seen.

Severus jerked and his wand trembled for an instant before he slashed silently in the direction of the voice. The red light of his stunning curse hit the wall and bounced back, Severus gasped and rolled aside as the spell hit the carpet where he had been kneeling and fizzled out. The walls were so well warded they repelled magic instead of absorbing it.

"My boy, that was uncalled for," Dumbledore's voice echoed, sounding supremely disappointed and saddened. "All I want to do is talk."

"Your words are poison," Severus wheezed hoarsely, hunched over as he struggled to get his breath back, to ignore the shooting pains in his back and shoulder and head.

"You haven't even heard me out."

"I don't need to," Severus coughed, almost laughing. "I remember everything. I remember my son. If you try to stop me, I'll kill you, I swear it."

The old man sighed, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. "I do not doubt it, Severus," he murmured. "But have you stopped to ask yourself why? Why would I do this to you? To Harry? Indeed, I know you have questions, and I wish to answer them."

"Indulge yourself," Severus spat, heaving himself to his feet, keeping one arm wrapped around his ribs. The bond with the boy, (his son) sang in his chest. He was closer to the child than he had been since before his last memory-surgery and his magic reacted. Drawing on the distraction, Severus straightened up and walked cautiously over to the table with the memories.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you," Dumbledore's grave voice came from directly in front of Severus, behind the table. The Potions Master jerked and aimed his wand at the bare wall behind the bottles.

"I'm sick of your games, old man," Severus hissed. "I'm finished being your chess piece."

"I know it," Dumbledore sighed. "But everything I did, I have done for love of you."

"Love?" Severus laughed painfully, tightening his arm around his ribs. "You call this love? Forced love is not love … It's rape."

"You call it what you will, Severus," Dumbledore replied sternly. "But I have done what I did for you, and you alone. Will you not hear me out?"

"I told you to indulge yourself."

The air behind the table shimmered and a powerful disillusionment spell came undone as the old wizard stepped forward. Severus scowled and raised his wand yet again. Expelliarmus was on his lips, but the old man waved his empty hand and Severus felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He fell back with a cry of pain, his wand and cloak were ripped from him, and he lay on the carpet, panting for breath and struggling to rise.

"Please, Severus," the old man pleaded. There was a faint click as he placed Severus' wand on the table beside the bottles. "Please hear me out."

"Ah … yes," Severus panted, shutting his eyes against the vertigo that made his head spin. "The Dark … Lord … was fond … of monologues … before he killed … his disloyal slaves."

"Do not compare me to Voldemort, Severus Snape," Dumbledore said sternly with anger bleeding into his voice. "Do you think I have enjoyed this game you and I have been locked in? Do you think me evil and twisted enough to?"

Severus tried to rise, but gave up. Some curse was pinning him to the ground by making his torso feel extra heavy. It was hard to breathe, but trying to get up off the floor made it worse. He lay still, gasping for air and groping for the wand he no longer had. He thought Dumbledore twisted alright, and maybe that made him evil, but he was certain that the old meddler thought himself above such things as good and evil. He had been like this ever since Severus had first known him.

"Will you listen, Severus?"

"It isn't … as though I … have a choice," Severus wheezed. He shut his eyes and dragged on his wandless magic. He could perhaps untangle the spell pinning him down, but it would take time. He tackled the curse without delay and concentrated on picking it apart.

"You were young and foolish when you joined Voldemort," Dumbledore said quietly. Severus winced at the name and his arm gave a ghostly twinge. "I could not stop you, nor did I dare to. But I saw in you what I am certain you have never seen in yourself: a noble spirit and an unwavering courage. I knew that you would draw your own line and once done, you would not budge from it … unless given some motivation."

"Are you telling me you planned to recruit me as a spy ever since I was an angry, bitter seventeen-year-old Death Eater?" Severus spat, pausing to drag in a painful breath. The heaviness seemed to be growing, and the pressure on his bruised ribs was almost making tears burn his eyes.

"I planned to bring you back to the light even then, yes," Dumbledore confessed. "Near Halloween of 1979, I heard through my spies that Voldemort was planning a special revel for his most loyal followers. Making certain you were one of them was not difficult. I leaked information that enabled your ideas and skills to be showcased … and then I allowed the one person to be captured who would induce you to switch sides."

Severus' breath caught and his eyes snapped open in horror. No. Not even Albus Dumbledore would do something so diabolical.

"I assigned the newly married Lily Potter to a mission and allowed her involvement to be leaked to a spy," the old man said slowly. "She was captured, you were supposed to be rewarded a day later, and I waited." Dumbledore heaved a deep breath. "Words cannot express my grief and anxiety at making such a choice, Severus. But I knew deep in my heart that you would come through. Your crisis of conscience would not allow you to let harm come to Lily."

"You … monster," Severus wheezed, real tears falling from his eyes and trickling down his cheeks. He told himself it was because of the painful pressure of Dumbledore's clever little curse, but he knew he was crying for Lily. Even Lily had not been able to escape the old man's games. The Headmaster deserved to die for that.

"I am telling you the truth, however horrible," Dumbledore answered solemnly. "You deserve to know everything."

"Indeed …" Severus choked out through the weight on his lungs. "Because … after … you'll … take my … memories … again."

Ignoring the comment, Albus Dumbledore stepped closer, into Severus' line of vision. "Lily turned up again after Halloween and would not speak of what had happened. But I spoke to her myself and heard her honest story, and yes, I was overjoyed. You had been brought face to face with the horror of Voldemort's insanity, what his reign would look like, and soon, you would be ripe for recruitment. But time passed and you did not approach me. I later learned that you and Lily maintained contact without my knowledge, and she lied to my face about it. I was … impressed."

Because you never expected your precious Gryffindors capable of deception, Severus thought scornfully, being without breath to speak any longer. Sparks danced in front of his eyes as he slowly suffocated.

"Severus?"

The Potions Master did not answer. He couldn't. With growing desperation, Severus directed a burst of his own magic at the curse pinning him to the ground, but it was like trying to cut a rope with a feather. He could not breathe and his ribs felt like they were going to crack under the pressure. Just as he was sure he was going to lose consciousness, the weight disappeared and Severus dragged in a long wheezing breath, coughing and curling over onto his side to recover.

"My poor boy, I am so sorry," Dumbledore's voice came as if from far away. "I did not realize that the curse grows in weight as it is left. Do forgive me, Severus."

Severus ignored the sniveling old man and concentrated on pulling sweet oxygen into his lungs. He had never experienced such a curse before and guessed it was one of Dumbledore's inventions. Ingeniously evil.

"Do you feel better now?"

Severus stiffened, rage and hate bubbling up inside him until he was ready to be consumed by it. The old man was concerned about his wellbeing? A man who sent an innocent girl to be tortured and raped all for the sake of recruitment?!

Lunging to all-fours, he gave a snarl like a beast and threw himself on the old wizard, yanking a small knife from his belt into his hands. It was stupid; a move born of desperation and rage and helplessness. Albus was caught off guard, but he was spry and strong for a man of a hundred-fifty-two years. He twisted away from Snape, shoved him back with that gut-punching wandless curse, and drew his wand. His booming voice chanted a disarming spell with several extra Latin words tacked on. Severus was flung against the far wall by the force of it and the magic raked across his skin like hot combs, making him cry out in pain. When the red cleared from his vision and he caught his breath, he found that the powerful spell had stripped him naked, leaving him sprawled on the cold stone at the far end of the room. Albus Dumbledore stood on the carpet in the middle of the chamber, tall and angry, his robes fluttering around him as his body crackled with energy like lightning.

"Do not try that again, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "I do not react well to being almost stabbed."

Hysterical laughter gurgled up out of the Potion-Master's throat, but he didn't move from where he lay slumped against the wall. The only thing he did was drag his feet closer to his body, both for warmth and for some instinct of protection He was completely vulnerable, and a flashback loomed at the back of his mind, triggered by his bare skin against cold stone, fear pounding in his chest, and thoughts of Lily. He tasked the magical constructs defending his mind's temple to keep the memories at bay until later. He could not afford to let his guard down here.

"Would you like for me to finish telling you everything? I promise that not all is betrayal and grief."

"You are a traitor," Severus whispered. "She trusted you. You gave her to the wolves."

"I gave her to you, Severus."

A low chuckle filled with malice bubbled out of his mouth. "I should thank you?"

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. His hair looked disheveled from their brief struggle, and Severus' clothing was in a heap at the old man's feet. Dumbledore deliberately aimed his wand at them, emptied the pockets of a healing potion, a scrap of paper, a muggle pen, and a few coins, and tossed the shirt, pants and trousers back at him. Severus ignored them, refusing to scramble across the floor like a prisoner.

"I did not mean to strip you, my boy," Dumbledore said more calmly. "I know what terrible memories you bear of such a thing. I was angry, and I apologize. I only meant to disarm you of further weapons."

"It wouldn't have killed you," Severus muttered, flicking his hand in a wandless summoning spell. It was weak, and the clothes shifted just slightly. But now they were in his reach and he could sit up and grab hold of them.

"I did not know that. You tried to stab me."

"I was angry," Severus sneered, throwing the old man's words back, minus the apology. "Something about you setting me and Lily up for a rape-date."

Dumbledore sighed like he was being a difficult child, and Severus stuffed his rage down before it got him in more trouble. He could afford to wait, probably. He dressed himself quickly, trying to ignore the old man's grave blue eyes watching him. When he stepped away from the wall he had been leaning against, he felt shaky on his feet, but without the pressure on his chest, the pain in his ribs and shoulder was bearable.

"Well?" Severus snapped, tapping his bare foot on the floor. "What else did you have to tell me? When did you find out Harry was mine?"

"Embarrassingly, I did not find out. You told me."

Severus narrowed his eyes, searching through the memories that had been coming back. "Something about me being the one to defy the Dark Lord three times?"

"You remember." Dumbledore sounded relieved.

The Potions-Master sneered. "I don't remember much of that meeting. So why don't you simply tell me your version of events?"

Dumbledore sighed again and adjusted his spectacles. "Lily and James announced that they were expecting almost two months after that Halloween, and to my chagrin, I never even guessed. I suppose I assumed that you, as a Potions prodigy, would have a contraceptive potion available, or would make one. But no matter; the next event was the prophecy. Here, I also must confess my meddling hand. I had heard the prophecy from Trelawney earlier that year by accident, but after mulling it over, I determined for Voldemort's spies to carry it, or at least half of it, back to him. I chose a night at the Hog's Head when I knew that a few Death Eaters, or at least sympathizers or informants would be around, including yourself."

"I didn't take it to him," Severus snarled defensively. "I do not believe in prophecies."

"I know you don't, my boy," Dumbledore said with a weary smile. "But I knew that if Voldemort was to be defeated, he needed to face the one who had the power to defeat him."

"A baby," Severus interrupted, trying to control his anger at the old man's casual use of the Dark Lord's name. "You are telling me you thought a baby would defeat the Dark Lord?"

"Have you ever heard of Phineas Bowley?"

"Who?"

"I suppose you wouldn't. That was before you joined. Phineas was a seer and an early member of the Order of the Phoenix. He died of a heart attack before you joined Voldemort."

"Your point?" Severus snarled, grabbing at his aching arm. Memory was a tricky thing, but hearing that name over and over was making his arm hurt down to the bone.

"Phineas Bowley kept a dream diary, as his visions and prophecies were mainly dreams. After his death, I read what he had written. Several of his visions featured a baby facing Voldemort and shining brightly, somehow banishing the Dark Lord from the land of the living. There were several iterations of the same theme, and when I heard Trelawney's prophecy, I knew that Voldemort would need to face an infant to be defeated."

Severus shook his head slowly, in denial, disbelief … but he knew nothing of such things and kept silent. He did not believe in prophecy, but Dumbledore did, and so had the Dark Lord. Whether any of it was true or not, Harry had found himself at the center of a power struggle between a Dark Lord and an old manipulator, even before his conception. And Severus was his queen piece. He hated the old Headmaster with all his being. But he controlled himself. Just a few more minutes …

"You know what happened next," Dumbledore went on with a sigh. "Voldemort moved on the Potters and they fled. You came to me with what you knew and offered to spy for me in exchange for my absolute devotion to Lily and Harry's safety, and I learned that the Potter boy was not who I had thought he was. I guessed that one of the Marauders was the spy and allowed them to work it out themselves in hopes of exposing Voldemort's source … and everything worked out as I had hoped. The Potters were betrayed, but Harry somehow defeated Voldemort. The-Boy-Who-Lived then needed to be kept safe, and I knew that you would make first claim for the child." Dumbledore paused and shook his head regretfully. "But I knew that you would not be able to care for Harry. You did go to Azkaban later that year until I managed to get you out. You were unstable and depressed, even without the memories I took from you. You became bitter and angry and cruel."

"Became?" Severus interrupted. "I have always been jaded and nasty, Dumbledore. Don't pretend otherwise."

"You changed," Dumbledore replied simply. "Whether it was growing up, or tragedy and repentance, or the simple magic of becoming a father, you were different from the beginning of 1980 to that fateful night in '81. You remained stern and serious, but more apt to laugh and to care. You had hope. It grieved me to take your son and even your memories of the child, but you were unstable and furious in the aftermath of Lily's death. You blamed me and nearly came to blows in that house. I struck you down before I thought about it, and then took the memories that were causing problems. I thought I would return them when you were a bit calmer, but then we were mopping up Death Eaters, and you went to Azkaban, and then … do you see? There was never a good time to give them back. After Azkaban, you would have lost your mind had I not taken other memories of the tortures you had endured or witnessed as a Death Eater. I helped you recover, Severus. I did everything I could for you."

"And three days ago?" Severus rasped, the old man's words affecting him more than he cared to admit. "Minerva told me I was happy with Harry. That I was stable, and kind … she said she thought I … loved … that child. Why would you take that?"

The old man smiled sadly. "You may have been growing attached to Harry, which was a good and wonderful thing, but you were growing rebellious and unreasonable toward me. Again. I had already set up the blood wards around Harry's maternal relatives and could not reset them around you without revealing things that would have been better to stay hidden. I tried to compromise, but you would not listen to me. You nearly killed Lupin, and you colluded with Sirius Black, and you threatened me. I had to do something before you lost your mind. The simplest thing was to erase your memories and put everything back the way it was. It seemed to fix the problem … at least for a day or two."

The Marauders were the wrinkle, Severus realized with a strange detachment. You didn't expect us to ally with one another. Knowing that he somehow owed Dumbledore's frustration to Lupin and Black didn't fill him with the distaste and anger he thought it would. Strangely enough, he considered the last two Marauders as close allies now, and they were allied with him against Dumbledore.

"But I know it was a mistake," the old Headmaster sighed with regret. "I knew it when I went to see you the day after and saw your brittle attitude, your discomfort around me … Did you start remembering things right away, I wonder? Did I meddle one too many times and upset the careful balance of your mind? I am sorry, Severus. I am truly sorry. I meant to save you pain, to fix what was wrong … and I have made you suffer even more."

"Don't ask for forgiveness," Severus hissed, though his venom lacked strength. He slumped back against the wall and passed his hand over his face, realizing that he was trembling from head to toe. "Do not ask for it, because I will never forgive you."

"I was not going to ask," Dumbledore replied gently. ""You have never been a forgiving person, my dear boy."

"Stop. Calling. Me. That," Severus whispered, his face twisting into a snarl of pain and rage.

"My apologies," the Headmaster murmured. "But … now you know. I have said my piece."

Severus glanced up and around. If there was an escape from this tomb, it was hidden. Without looking at the ancient wizard, he sneered, "And what are you going to do with me now, old man?"

"It is your choice."

Severus' eyes snapped back to Dumbledore in surprise. Truly? It was his choice? Fine. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, glanced at the glowing bottles on the table behind the Headmaster, and stepped forward while crossing his arms over his chest. "I want my memories back," he declared.

The old man stayed still, gazing piercingly at him for several seconds. Finally, he turned to the table with the bottles on it.

"I would give them to you," the old man said softly. "But you would not survive."

"I didn't say I wanted them back in my head," Severus snapped impatiently. "I said I want them back. They're mine; I didn't give them to you."

"Indeed," Dumbledore sighed. "But these are not memories." He waved his wand and one of the corks popped out. Blue mist rose out of the open bottle and crackled like tiny fireworks before dissipating completely. Severus clenched his jaw, unsure of how to feel about the trick. He said nothing.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Severus?" the old man asked, turning around again.

"Give me back my son," the Potions Master replied promptly, echoes of the past ringing in his head as if in agreement.

"I cannot do that," Dumbledore said grimly. "Please understand. The boy is too important for this."

"Too important for the likes of me, you mean," Severus sneered. "I see through you, old fool. And I don't care about your machinations or your war. I never have. I only ever served your cause for Lily."

"I know."

"Are you going to let me go?"

"You know I cannot do that."

Severus was silent. He shook his head and shifted his bare feet on the cold stone floor. He should have known that this would end somehow in this room. "So," the Potions Master laughed coldly. "Let me guess: my choices are either to let you mind-rape me again until I am once more your stupidly compliant little slave, or perhaps I can choose the method of my own death?"

"I am not your enemy, Severus," Dumbledore replied in a very quiet voice.

"No?" Severus smiled without any mirth whatsoever. "You're doing an excellent job of acting like it, you know."

Dumbledore sighed again and shook his head sadly. "You are a Death Eater."

"You're the one who said we can be more than our pasts," Severus tossed back, seething at the low blow. "But if we are bringing up past mistakes, very well: you colluded with Grindelwald to take over the world."

"It was never like that."

"Simplified, yes it was."

"You are being childish."

Severus burst out into cruel laughter. He couldn't help it. This whole conversation was ridiculous and he had wasted enough time. "Childish?" he laughed. "No, my dear Albus, I am not being childish. I am stalling."

Before the old man could think about what he'd said, Severus yanked the top button off his shirt, wandlessly canceling the transfiguration spell that had been used on it. The potion bottle was full of murky gray liquid and Severus threw it down on the floor while closing his eyes. With a bang, the bottle exploded in a brilliant flash of light and filled the room with dense fog that smelled like charcoal. Dumbledore cried out, either in surprise or pain, but Severus was already moving, darting around the perimeter of the room to the last place he'd seen his wand. A red flash passed over his shoulder and Severus growled before he reached the table. He snatched his wand and barely ducked another spell, this one a bright white streak of brilliance that almost blinded him. It bounced off the wall and hit him in the side. Blood immediately dampened his clothes and the pain came a minute later. He grabbed his wand and kicked the table over while he slipped away. The table fell with a crash and the bottles shattered.

"Severus!" Dumbledore shouted, sounding alarmed.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Severus demanded a little breathlessly. He was losing a lot of blood too quickly and he was leaning against a wall, trying to patch it. But the angle was bad and he was starting to feel lightheaded.

"I cannot give you what you want."

"What if I want you dead?" Severus threw back carelessly, blinking hard at the darkness shading his vision. His trousers were soaked by now and all around him he could smell blood. It was coppery and sharp and he reeked of it.

Dumbledore conjured a wind to disperse the fog and Severus pressed himself against the wall. He gripped his wand tightly, but he couldn't seal his wound. He was going to bleed to death. Severus opened his eyes, wondering if he preferred to die now without seeing the boy, without having to look him in the eye and tell him that he did not remember his own child. His heart ached suddenly, for what he had lost and for what he would never get back. The wind blew the gray fog aside, but it also blew a strangely familiar glob of wispy blue magic straight toward him. Severus looked at it, not understanding what it was until it paused and then drifted toward his head, picking up speed as it came.

Memories.

Dumbledore cried out again, incoherently, but Severus just continued to stare at the swirling blue mist rushing at him. Hadn't the old man said they weren't memories in the bottles? He barely had time to think any longer as the memories surrounded his head and penetrated his skull.

The Potions Master fell to the ground.

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Remus kept expecting something to go wrong, but he and Padfoot made their way up the narrow back stairs to the third floor without incident. The dog's nails clicked on the stone and wood floors of the old manor and Remus' soft boots whispered in response. They reached the door to the North tower without meeting resistance of any kind and didn't see Snape or McGonegall anywhere. Padfoot shifted into his human form and silently got out his lock picks. Apparently, this part of the house was a bit more secure than the rest. While Sirius busied himself with the ordinary lock and Remus stood guard, a shadow came scurrying toward them out of the dark. Stopping in a square of moonlight from a skylight, the tabby cat shifted into the stern Transfiguration Professor.

"Albus has him," she whispered urgently. "There was a trap on the stairs between second and third floors."

"Great," Sirius muttered from behind Remus.

"The plan allowed for this," the Werewolf forced himself to say. "Want us to get Harry ourselves and meet you?"

"Aye," Minerva agreed, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I'll find where the old coot's taken Severus an' send ye a patronus when I've got 'im. We may need ta fight."

"I hope not," Remus sighed. "One of us could end up dead."

"Yeah, Dumbledore could," Sirius scoffed. He stood up and dusted off his hands. "It's ready, Moony."

Remus threw Minerva a salute as she transformed and turned to the door. It was password protected, but it was rather obvious what the word would be. Minerva had filled them in on the tower's original purpose.

"Arianna," Remus murmured. The door clicked, and an Alohomora sent it swinging open with an ominous creak. Glancing behind at the empty hallway, Remus slipped inside, followed by Sirius in dog form. They left Sirius' bundle of lock-picks in the doorjamb to keep it open, and then hurried up the winding stairs. Both of the Marauders caught the scent at the same time: Harry. Remus' wolf jumped in excitement and Remus sternly ordered him down so their pup would not fear. Surprisingly, the wolf accepted that reason and stayed quiet. Padfoot whined softly and leapt up the last few steps. The next door flew open with an Alohomora and Remus had to grab the door to keep it from flying into the wall.

The room was cozy. A school desk at one end of the room had some books and papers stacked on it, and closer to them was a table and chair for eating. A vase of flowers in the middle of the table gave it a nice homey feel. There were no windows, but some magical lamps burned on the rounded walls. An arched doorway probably led down to the private gardens and the wall bulged toward them at the other end of the room. A door in the curved wall led to the bedroom, and neither Sirius nor Remus needed the magical tug in their chests to tell them Harry was behind that door. Their noses told them everything.

Remus held up three fingers to the animagus and counted down before he hit the door with Alohomora and followed the dog in. A strange scuffle met their eyes. The dark-haired boy was running from a wizened house elf that was chasing him, hopping and popping around the room to try and catch him. The elf was shouting threats, while Harry was saying nothing, and Remus and Sirius largely went unnoticed. But Harry was quick and nimble, and as the Marauders burst in, Harry threw a bottle at the elf, hitting him square in the nose, before he dove under the large four poster bed.

Padfoot tackled the elf and Remus cast a stupefy on him before they could find out what house elf battle magic looked like. In the sudden silence, Harry poked his head out from under the bed, flushed and panting through his nose. His mouth was shut, but the way Harry's jaw was clenched seemed unnatural. At the sight of him, Harry looked ready to hide again, but he didn't seem as terrified as he had been the last time Remus saw him.

Swallowing a rush of guilt, Remus smiled his kindest smile and crouched down, holding out his hand to the child. "Hello there, Harry; my name is Remus, and we're here to rescue you."

Harry eyed him skeptically, his green eyes serious and suspicious, but he said nothing.

"Are you alright?" Remus asked cautiously. "Can you speak?"

The boy shook his head vehemently and his eyes slid over to the elf pinned under Padfoot's large paws. Had the house elf shut him up for some reason? Remus slowly raised his wand, hoping Harry wouldn't panic.

"Finite incantatem," he whispered, hoping it would be enough.

Harry's mouth popped open as if he had been straining to open it himself for a while. The relief on his face was painful to see, but Harry didn't come all the way out from under the bed. He glared at Remus instead.

"You bit me," he announced darkly.

"Er … yes," Remus' smile faltered. "I'm sorry about that. But … I wasn't myself when I bit you. I would never do it otherwise … I was … horrified, when I found out I infected you."

The boy seemed to consider that, and Padfoot chose that moment to become Sirius. Harry brightened at once and scrambled out from under the bed. Remus grabbed the satchel that Harry had been carrying while he and the elf were playing tag, and turned to watch the boy reunite with his godfather.

"Snuffles!" he cried, launching himself at Sirius for a hug. "You came! I knew you'd come!"

"Hey kiddo," Sirius chuckled, kissing Harry's forehead and ruffling his hair. "You smell clean!"

"Kooky let me take a bath every single night!" Harry gushed. He glanced down at the unconscious elf. "Um, is he okay?"

"He's just sleeping; don't worry about it," Sirius assured him. He hugged Harry again. "I'm glad to see you again, Harry. You ready to go?"

"Is the Professor here?" Harry asked timidly, giving both men nervous looks.

"He's downstairs somewhere," Remus answered immediately. "We need to go get him."

Harry looked so happy that his face might crack from his grinning. "Lemme get my shoes on," he said, racing for the bed where he'd left his bag. He skidded to a halt when he saw that Remus was holding the bag. The Werewolf smiled again, (hoping he looked non-threatening) and held out the bag. When Harry made no move to grab it, Remus sighed.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," he said quietly. "But for the record, I don't remember biting you."

Some of the tension seemed to fall out of Harry's shoulders. "I don't remember what happened to me on the Full Moon either."

"I'm very sorry for what I did to you, believe me," Remus repeated fervently. "If I could undo it … I would."

Harry shrugged and nodded. "I, um … Well, I guess I should say thanks," the boy said softly, looking up with guileless emerald eyes. "I never woulda got away from the Dursleys if you never bit me."

Remus blinked and then smiled awkwardly. "Well … I suppose good can come out of everything, can't it?"

"Right," Sirius interrupted impatiently. "But while we wait, Dumbles is probably erasing Snape's memories again. Let's get going before it's too late."

Harry looked alarmed, but he didn't say anything. He grabbed his shoes and Sirius helped him put them on. As they turned to leave with Harry in Sirius' arms and Remus carrying the boy's shoulder bag, a rumbled from somewhere close by made them glance at one another in alarm.

"Is the Professor hurt?" Harry whispered fearfully. "Was it a bomb?"

"Maybe a blasting curse," Remus answered grimly. Before Sirius could say anything, a silver tabby burst through the floor and opened its mouth.

"Hurry to the second floor, garden office," Minerva's crisp, Scottish accent came out of the cat's mouth. "Severus is bleeding out and Albus is insane."

The patronus vanished, scattering silver sparkles in the air. Harry's eyes were wide and his mouth agape. "Was that Professor Congall?" he asked.

"Professor McGonegall, yes that's right," Sirius answered, looking impressed. "That was her patronus; like a magical messenger. You met her, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, seeming to recover from his worried fear for the Professor. Remus led the way down the spiral staircase and Sirius followed close on his heels, so he could still hear Harry. "Professor McCongall's really nice, and she told me a story about when my Mum an' Dad had to work together to do their homework and my Mum didn't like my Dad so she turned the shoebox into a skunk."

Sirius chuckled, his laughter echoing in the stairwell. "I remember that. James was so mad at her he didn't ask her out for a week. Remember, Moony?"

"I remember," Remus answered with a smile. He shoved open the tower door at the bottom of the stairs and held it open for Sirius. "I also seem to recall that we were tasked with a return prank."

"Oh yeah," Sirius grinned. "What did we decide on again? Did we colour her hair or transfigure her quills?"

"Into worms," Remus finished, chuckling. "We transfigured every one of her quills into flobberworms. Remember how mad she got?"

Sirius nodded, his eyes bright with happiness. "Ugh, and then she filled out shampoo bottles with that stink-sap stuff, remember?"

"We thought that was Snape's idea, remember?" Remus commented.

"Mum didn't like you guys 'cause you caused trouble?" Harry interrupted innocently.

"She was a really good girl, most of the time," Sirius chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Remus and James and I, well … Let's just say we were not really good boys most of the time."

"I'm not a good boy most of the time either," Harry shrugged, but he was smiling contentedly.

"Oh?" Sirius said, sounding genuinely interested. "You play pranks on people?"

"Um … no," Harry replied slowly.

"You go to sleep in class?"

"Only when I'm really tired."

"You disrespect the prefects?"

"What's a prefect?"

"There, see?" Sirius finished triumphantly. "You're a really good boy already compared to us Marauders."

Remus smiled, but said nothing as they continued downstairs. Sirius was a really good godfather. He could only hope he could get a chance to be a good Alpha for Harry too. He took a deep breath as they reached the bottom of the service stairs and stopped, holding out his arm for Sirius to stop. He turned around, facing the now-silent animagus and his godson.

"We don't know what we'll find down there," Remus said seriously. "Harry, our job is to take care of you, but we're also trying to get Professor Snape out of here in one piece. I want your word that you'll listen to us without question if we tell you to do something. If we tell you to hide, you hide. If we tell you to run, you run. Understand?"

Harry nodded solemnly, his green eyes big and worried.

"We might do some fighting," Remus said quietly. "Don't be afraid, alright? We'll protect you as best we can."

Harry nodded again, his face suddenly tightening with worry. "Is my Professor okay?"

"I hope so," Remus said firmly, trying to ignore how Harry called Snape 'his'. "That's why we're going now; to help him out. Now we need to be very quiet while we go find him, so we aren't heard by Professor Dumbledore."

Harry scowled. "I don't like Headmaster," the child muttered. "He tried to make me talk too much and locked me up."

"We don't like him either," Sirius grumbled, tightening his grip on the child in his arm. "He stole you and hurt Snape to do it. We won't let him take you back."

Harry nodded fiercely and clung tightly to his godfather.

"Alright," Remus nodded grimly, holding up his wand. "Let's go; remember, be quiet."

Remus hurried on down the passage, closing his eyes and using scent and his enhanced hearing to guide him while he consulted his memory for the maps Snape had showed them. To be honest, his memory was not photographic and he did not remember it much. But his senses were different. He could hear shouts and he could smell charcoal and blood. He stopped and stuck his free hand out toward Sirius. He flashed his fingers in their special sign language and continued on down the passage without looking back, confident that Padfoot would be following, with Harry behind at a distance.

He heard a crash and realized it came from behind a locked door. The garden office.

Remus glanced to his side where a big black dog silently stood like a great shadow, and then over his shoulder where Harry's green eyes, flecked with gold, glowed with worry from a few feet away.

"Press yourself against the wall," Remus ordered him in a whisper. "If you see Dumbledore, hide or run. We'll find you."

"How?" Hrary whispered a little frantically. "What if I get lost?"

"You're my pup," Remus answered simply. "I could never lose you." Giving the boy an encouraging smile, he blasted the door off its hinges with a Bombarda.

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Minerva McGonegall had found Severus not long after she went back to the second floor as a cat. Her sharp ears caught the sound of voices from a room that was warded against human ears, and managed to get into a large office that was more like a small library than a workspace. Once inside, she found the secret door to a different chamber right around the time that she heard Severus' flash-bang potion go off. He had promised not to use that unless he was in trouble, so she wasted no time in transforming back into her human self and blasting open the door.

Gray fog rolled out, which she banished back into the room with a powerful tornado curse. Severus was lying on his side almost right in front of her feet in a puddle of blood. She gasped and bent over him, but froze at a familiar voice.

"Et tu, Brute?"

Albus Dumbledore spelled the lights on somehow, several glowing balls appearing on the walls of the small, square, windowless chamber. A table lay on its side not far away along with several smashed glasses or bottles. The old man was dressed in his dark purple robes with yellow stars and his blue eyes burned with intensity.

"What have ye done to him?" Minerva demanded in a quiet, but harsh voice.

"He's won you over so easily, Minerva?" Albus shook his head sadly. "I merely defended myself." He nudged something on the floor by his boot: a small potions knife.

"Yet he's the one bleedin' to death!" Minerva raised her voice. She pressed one hand over the deep wound in Professor Snape's side. He had been hit in the back and the singed edges of his shirt told her that this was a serious wound, caused by magic, not a knife.

"What has Severus told you, Minerva? What has turned you against me?"

"Don't say another word, and don't move one inch," the Scotswoman growled, jerking off her cloak to press it against Severus' injury. "I know what ye've done to him; takin' his mind, his son, his dignity. I'll not let ye take his life too."

Albus sighed sadly and shook his head in regret. "He has lost his mind, Minerva," he said gently. "You know he nearly murdered Remus Lupin, and colluded with Sirius Black. He has somehow convinced himself that he is Harry's father and wants to steal him away for some nefarious purpose. How can you let yourself be taken in by these Death Eaters, my dearest old friend?"

Minerva shook her head, feeling dazed and heartbroken. "What happened to you, Albus?" she whispered. "Why are ye doing this?"

"You do not believe me."

"I don't care to listen to lies." The Transfiguration Professor turned away and cast a silent patronus, instructing it to take a message to Lupin. Dumbledore cast something at her as she was distracted, and she shifted into a cat to avoid it. She did not recognize the teal colour of the spell that flashed past her

"Minerva, listen to me," Albus pleaded as her cat form spat and hissed at him from atop a bookshelf. "Severus was becoming a danger to the Order. He would destroy everything we fought for in the war! If you are with him, you are against me!"

Minerva leapt to a different bookshelf as Albus cast another spell at her. She jumped down from that one, shifted to human, and transfigured a book into a whip that she flung toward the Headmaster's feet. While he dodged it, she shifted into a cat again and darted away, determined to keep him chasing her until the Marauders could arrive to back her up. She dared not face Albus Dumbledore one on one, having seen him in battle too often before.

"Harry is far too important to allow Severus to take him, to instill in him the kind of rebellious disobedience and single-minded independence that are the defining trait of a Snape!" Albus shouted, his voice rising with his frustration and determination to convince her, or maybe himself. "There is only one who can definitively vanquish Voldemort when he returns! Harry must be willing to obey my orders as his commanding officer! Without discipline, there would be no force to face the Death Eaters when they also return!"

Minerva darted under a desk, narrowly dodging a red stunning curse.

"Minerva! Stop and listen to me! I am not the enemy!"

The animagus Professor trembled under the desk from anger and grief. Albus Dumbledore had finally snapped. She was sure of it. She had never known her friend to act like this; so unhinged, so out of touch with morality.

"I had no choice in what I have done!" the Headmaster shouted, sounding anguished and on the verge of tears. "I love Severus as a son! You must believe me, Minerva, when I say that I am doing what is best for him. I would rather he die quietly now than live with a broken mind in St. Mungo's, or be tormented for the rest of his days in Azkaban!"

Minerva slipped out from under the desk and shifted to her human self, choking back tears as she faced her old friend.

"Broken mind? Azkaban? Both outcomes would be yer own fault, Albus!" she accused. "Severus has always deserved better than the scraps ye've thrown him all his life! Now ye say he'd be better off dead? What of Harry? Doesn't he deserve a father after all he's suffered? After all ye've done to both Severus and Harry, I marvel that ye not be fearin' Azkaban for yourself!"

Albus shook his head impatiently. "You do not understand the life I lead, Minerva," he said wearily, perhaps only mollified because she wasn't running from him anymore. "I have so many responsibilities, and leading the Light in preparation for Voldemort's return is only one of my many tasks. Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good!"

The door exploded behind the old man, likely from a blasting curse. Dumbledore spun on his heel in shock as a new voice thundered from the dust-obscured doorway.

"Damn your 'greater good'!"

Remus Lupin stood in the doorway to the study with a snarling black dog at his side. The Werewolf's eyes gleamed almost completely gold in the magical light from the walls. Minerva carefully stepped up onto the desk to gain a bit of height for her spellcasting, and so she would be able to easily jump to the nearest bookshelf if she had to shift in a hurry.

"You ambush and corner me?" the Headmaster demanded, sounding wounded. "What has Severus done to you, my Gryffindors?"

"Severus did nothin' but be yer victim!" Minerva scoffed. "Why do ye think we're not capable of thinkin' for ourselves?"

"Whatever Severus told you, whatever you think I have done, I did it for the sake of the war," Dumbledore insisted. "I had no choice! Do you think I hate Severus?"

"If a war must be won by sacrificing those you claim to love, than I want nothing to do with your war, Albus Dumbledore!" Lupin shouted indignantly. "Did you lose sight of humanity when you sought to save it?"

"I will not fail at stopping a Dark Lord's rise again!" Dumbledore shouted pleadingly, begging them to understand.

"You can fail at stopping a Dark Lord," Lupin announced solemnly. "We can fail at being a wizard even. But if we fail at being human beings, what else is there?"

"Some of us must sacrifice so that others can live," Albus said in a more broken voice.

"And are you God that you judge who is the sacrifice and who is not?" Remus challenged his old Headmaster.

Albus Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height, his voice stronger and surer than before. "Most of us cannot choose the fate we receive, and many do not deserve their fates, for good or evil. But we all have a part to play and a destiny to fulfill. Is it so terrible that I attempt to help others achieve their destinies while taking the greater burden upon myself?"

"You have robbed Severus of his free will, and who knows how many others," Remus declared solemnly. "Whether you meant ill or not, there is no good to be gained from manipulating a human being against their will."

"It was for their own good and for the good of the world!"

"Any evil can be justified. Any goal can be deemed worthy enough for a few sacrifices. The ends justify the means, do they not?"

"Yes, they do," Albus shouted, rage and a kind of insanity bleeding through his cries. "You are no commander; you do not know what is at stake in this war! Do you not think I grieve at every sacrifice I have made? Do you think me so heartless and evil? Are you going to compare me to Voldemort himself, as Severus did?"

"I only think you're misguided," Remus said firmly, stepping forward slightly, the growling dog animagus beside him matching his steps. "You think you're doing right, but you are making a terrible mistake. This is not your war."

"Not my …? What?" Albus blinked and stopped himself from going on. He seemed too stunned to reply.

"Your war was with Grindelwald, and you were victorious. But that war is over. Should Voldemort return, we may ask for your aid, but you are not fit to lead any longer. Not if you insist on playing with fate and human life as carelessly as a child plays Wizard's Chess."

Dumbledore was silent for several seconds. "What are you saying, Lupin?" he finally asked, his voice low with warning.

"We are here to stop you from continuing your mistakes," the Werewolf answered, completely unafraid. "We're here to fix what you've done, and what we've done too. We're here to save Severus Snape."

Dumbledore stiffened slightly and widened his stance. "You would save him?" he asked quietly, a hint of something hysterical in his voice. "He has reclaimed all of his memories at once despite my warning. If the effort alone does not kill him … he will be broken and insane. There is a reason I took those memories from him, you know. You would be better to let him die peacefully."

"No one gets left behind!" Lupin shouted, taking another step forward. "You are the one who told us that! When the Order of the Phoenix was still fighting, you always told us that none would be forgotten! Severus was part of the Order, as was I, in case you have forgotten, and I will not leave him behind while I still draw breath!" The Werewolf aimed his wand unwaveringly at the ancient wizard. "So step aside and let us depart peacefully, or we will leave over your body."

"So be it," Albus Dumbledore replied simply. He let loose the first spell and disapparated to the other side of the room with a loud crack.

The battle of Bumblebee Manor had begun.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

Harry cowered in the hallway, trembling with fear. He pressed himself against the wall as Remus the Wolf had ordered him to, and watched Snuffles and Remus walk into that room where the crazy old man was yelling at someone; probably the lady Professor who was a friend of Professor Snape. He winced as he heard Remus say a bad word, but he was good at ignoring it. Uncle Vernons said bad words sometimes, and even Dudley repeated bad words from TV. Aunt Petunia said it was rude and vulgar to curse. The Professor never said bad words and he was the best person Harry had ever met in his life.

He listened as Remus the Wolf started talking loudly to the crazy old Dumble-man, and although there was a lot he couldn't understand in what they were saying, he could understand enough. Remus the Wolf said it was bad to do things just because you thought you were smarter and better than other people, and even if it was for a good reason. Dumbledore didn't agree. He thought he was better than everybody so he could make everyone do what he wanted them to do. Harry's heart jumped when they mentioned 'Severus'. He knew somehow that it was the Professor's real name, and he whispered it to himself. Somehow, he liked it much better than 'Professor'.

Then the Dumble-man said something about Severus being broken and insane because of something with his memories and Harry's heart jumped into his throat in horror. His strong Professor couldn't die! And the bad Headmaster was just going to let him die! Quivering with nerves, (Remus the Wolf had said to stay put, after all) Harry got down on all fours and crawled to the doorway. A few feet away, Remus was standing next to Snuffles. Lamps on the wall were glowing a little and it was better than moonlight, He could see the lady Professor standing on a desk at the far end of the big room and the Dumble-man was in the middle of the room, looking really scary and mad.

The old man swung his magic stick and a purple light shot out of the end straight at Remus the Wolf before he vanished with a cracking noise like a broken stick. Harry gasped, but Snuffles jumped on Remus and knocked him down before the light hit him. The purple light flew out the doorway and hit the wall out in the hallway behind Harry. The old Headmaster was on the other side of the room, shooting lights at Remus the Wolf, Snuffles, and the lady Professor. But the other people were shooting back, ducking and jumping and dodging, and Snuffles looked like he wanted to chew Dumbledore up and spit him out. They were all yelling at once, words Harry couldn't understand. A bookshelf exploded and papers from the books filled the air like confetti. The wall got a hold punched in it and Harry could feel the shockwave. He even got sprinkled with plaster and splinters. Shaking with fear, Harry crawled forward under the flashing lights and fluttering paper and the yelling and running Remus the Wolf and the lady Professor and barking and growling Snuffles. It was so confusing and scary, like something out of a bad dream.

Harry gasped as another light slammed into the wall above his head and something broke with a loud crash. Being careful not to cut himself on the pieces of the broken vase, Harry kept crawling along the wall. Another explosion rocked the room and this time Harry screamed, curling up in a terrified little ball. When he peeked out again, a huge hole had been blasted in the wall and one of the bookshelves was laying on the floor in a bunch of pieces. Paper confetti was fluttering in the air again and he was just in time to see the purple and yellow robes of the old Headmaster disappear through the big hole in the wall. The lady professor suddenly turned into a cat and jumped through the hole. Barking like mad, Snuffles jumped through next. Remus the Wolf stopped, panting for air and bending down to examine his leg. He caught sight of Harry right away and his eyes widened.

"Dammit Harry!" he hissed. "What are you doing in here?"

"You s-said a bad word," Harry whispered stupidly.

Remus the Wolf's gold and brown eyes widened a little before he shook his head, looking annoyed. "You get right back in that hallway before –"

Another huge crash from somewhere in the house was followed by a dust cloud gushing through the hole in the wall. They could hear the lady Professor yelling, Snuffles howling and barking at the same time, and the Dumble-man shouting or chanting. Remus' face pinched and he impatiently straightened up.

"Fine, you want a mission?" the Werewolf asked, and Harry nodded frantically. "Find Professor Snape if he's around here and stay with him, got it?"

Harry nodded again, even more vigorously. "Wh-what do I do if he's hurt? Headmaster said he was goin' t-to let him d-die."

"Do whatever you know how to do, but just wait for us," Remus the Wolf said sternly. "Don't panic; just find him and stay with him."

Harry nodded obediently, but Remus the Wolf was already running off. He didn't go through the hole though; he ran into the hallway first before he took off. Harry noticed he was limping a little and hoped it wasn't too bad. When Remus the Wolf wasn't going all yellow-eye and creepy, Harry decided that he was pretty nice. With the room quiet and empty now, Harry sat up all the way, slowly got up on his feet, and sniffed the air. He could smell things way better now, so he decided he would try to find the Professor that way. He closed his eyes and breathed in, smelling dust and plaster and paper and broken wood, and then he sneezed twice. Rubbing his nose, Harry tiptoed back out into the hallway for his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he rummaged around until he found the Professor's handkerchief. It was old now, but he could still smell the Professor on it. He wiped his nose so he wouldn't sneeze anymore, and closed his eyes as he breathed in the hankie. It smelled like himself mostly, because he'd been carrying it around and using it for weeks … but under that he could detect the faintest traces of the Professor's spicy medicine smell.

With the memory of it fresh in his mind, Harry scampered back into the messy room and started hunting. He had not looked long when he realized that he could smell another very familiar scent and it worried him.

Blood.

He knew what blood smelled like, and he knew the difference between human and animal blood too. This was definitely human blood, and mixed with it, he could find the faint scent of ginger and mint. With his heart in his throat, Harry looked more frantically, tossing damaged books aside, kicking pieces of the destroyed bookshelf, crunching in broken glass …

He finally saw another door in the corner and hurried to it. On his right, almost laying right in his way, there was a dark huddled shape under a dark cloth. The smell of blood and a different scent, lady's perfume, tickled his nose. He knelt down next to the bundle and tugged on the cloth. It was a cloak, but it didn't smell like the Professor's. It probably belonged to Professor McCongall or whatever her name was.

Harry had watched Professor Snape sleeping once. This wasn't the same at all. Being back with his Professor again was great and everything, but seeing him lying there so still, his black magic stick clutched uselessly in one hand, and smelling so strongly of blood, Harry started to tremble.

"Professor?" he called quietly, hating how his voice quivered like he was going to cry. "Professor, sir? Wake up. Wake up, sir; it's me, Harry." The Professor didn't stir. His face was very white and his eyes looked dark even when they were closed. Harry set his hands on the man's shoulder and shook him gently. "Wake up," he pleaded. "P-please don't die. Please."

A few tears dripped down Harry's face and he shuddered all over to think he was too late. Remus the Wolf said to find the Professor and stay with him … oh, and to do what he could, if he knew how. Harry quickly rubbed the tears from his eyes and nodded with determination. He knew what to do for cuts and things like that. And maybe the Professor had some medicine laying around here …

Harry's searching gaze found a heap of black cloth lying next to a knocked-down table, and he jumped to his feet to go after it. On top of the cloth were some coins and a scrap of paper and a bottle of some kind of medicine, and Harry carefully bundled it all up. He carried it back over to the Professor and almost tripped on a small knife with a smooth black handle. He left it there, but he might need it maybe. Cutting cloth to wrap a cut was easier than trying to tear old socks or cleaning rags for the same job.

Kneeling down next to the Professor, he was in front of the man now. The lights in the walls made it a little easier to see, but Harry didn't need the light. His vision was really good now, even without much light. The Professor still looked pale and he lay very, very still. Harry could hardly tell if he was even breathing. The thought that he might not made Harry panic a little, even though Remus the Wolf said not to panic. He held out one of his little shaking hands next to the Professor's slightly open mouth and held his breath. After a couple seconds, he felt a puff of warm air on his fingers. Harry gasped with relief and almost laughed at himself for being so silly. He rubbed his hands on his pants nervously, because now that he knew the Professor was alive, it was time for him to find out where the blood was coming from and he'd never done this sort of thing for anybody but himself.

"But you fixed me up after the Wolf got me," Harry whispered to his Professor. "So now it's my turn."

Harry carefully bent over the Professor and pulled the cloak away gently. There was a lot of blood. The smell of it stirred something strange in the back of his head and set his heart beating faster. But though he could see and smell blood, he couldn't tell where it was coming from. Somewhere on the Professor's back, he figured, and stepped awkwardly over Professor Snape to get a better look. At this angle, he could clearly see the deep gash in the right side of the Professor's back and it really didn't look good. The cut was clean, but he could see muscle and a lot of blood and it turned his stomach a little. But he needed to do this fast before the Professor ran out of blood. Harry took a deep breath and pressed the cloak back over the nasty gash before scrambling up again. He grabbed the knife off the floor and started using it to cut the Professor's black cloak into long pieces to use as bandages, apologizing to him for ruining it while he did so. As he worked, he found stuff in the pockets and set them aside to maybe use later. He suddenly found a bottle of some sort of green potion that he recognized. Hadn't the Professor used this to close up the cut he reopened on his shoulder that one time? Maybe he could use it too and stop the bleeding at least.

Harry shivered and bit his lip, hoping he could do this right. He stepped back over to the Professor's back, gripping the bottle tightly in his fist. He carefully peeled back the blood-soaked cloak again and his shaky hand pushed aside the torn shirt. Trying to remember how the Professor did it that one time, Harry pulled the cork out of the bottle and sniffed it, just to be sure. He recognized the funny smell alright.

"Just hold still, okay?" Harry warned the Professor anxiously. "I've never done this before," he added in a worried mutter. Reaching out, Harry bent down over the nasty cut and carefully pinched the skin together before he very gingerly dripped a few drops of the green liquid over it. The cut smoked and sizzled in a way that made Harry flinch with alarm and he smelled something like burning meat. Harry stopped, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath through his mouth as his stomach rolled like he was going to throw up. He'd had supper of course, but the soup was threatening to come up and he really, really didn't want to vomit now. The nausea passed and Harry moved on, sealing the whole cut in a few minutes. He leaned back on his heels, feeling strangely exhausted. He was finished, basically, and he'd torn up the Professor's nice cloak for no reason.

Oops.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry whispered, wincing and hoping he wouldn't get in too much trouble for it. He carefully put the cork back on the green potion and looked at the other bottles. He didn't recognize any of them and he didn't bother trying to guess what they did. He wished he had some water or something to clean up all the blood. The Professor's clothes were starting to get stiff with it and there was still a puddle on the stone floor under him. Harry had accidentally knelt in it, and now his knees were soaked in blood too. He scrubbed his hand on his pants, but there was some blood under his nails and he couldn't get that out.

Harry sighed and sat down so he could see the Professor's pale face. "I hope I did it right," he said timidly. "The cut's all closed now, so you're not bleeding anymore …" he trailed off and shivered. Once he started, he couldn't stop. All the blood, and the Professor's white face, how still he was laying … Harry was terrified. He didn't want his Professor to die.

"Please wake up!" Harry pleaded shakily, uselessly fighting the tears that rolled down his face. "I'm sorry," he moaned, burying his face in his knees and rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry …" He cried and couldn't stop. He didn't know what to do, and even after he did what he could, the Professor was still just lying there, so still and pale. His skin was cool to the touch, when Harry reached out and touched his hand. "I wanted to live with you forever and ever," Harry whispered, sniffling through his tears. The house rocked and trembled again in another explosion, but the boy ignored it. All that existed was him and his Professor.

"Please don't leave me here all alone!" Harry sobbed, grabbing the cool hand in both of his small, shaking ones and pressing it to his face. "I love you, Professor! Don't go; don't die! Please, please, don't die …" Harry sobbed helplessly and squeezed the Professor's hand tightly in his. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, holding his Professor's hand and crying, incoherently begging the Professor to wake up, to be alright, not to die.

He was startled when the house gave a tremendous shake, like an earthquake, and he sat still, his back straight and his head tilted back in alarm as he studied the weirdly vaulted ceiling of this secret room. When the shaking faded, Harry let out a long breath, but he breathed too soon.

With a loud pop, none other than Kooky the house elf appeared right in front of him, glowering with terrifying rage.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

I hope you all enjoyed this, and I hope to get the next half of the climax out next week maybe.

Reviewers are so greatly appreciated, I can't even begin to tell you how happy you make me!

As of now, this story has 333 people who have favorited it, and 444 follows. Talk about a weird number coincidence! But I just want to thank every single one of you. Every number represents a reader, and I am so grateful to you all for showing your support of my story!