Chapter 94: Upon the Horizon
The winter's snow all but disappeared the day the crowds lined Hogwarts grounds with their heads bowed. Though the highland wind howled, the mourners persevered, black cloaks drawn up high and tight to protect against the unyielding bite of the wind.
The procession came from far and wide, those bearing the crests of the Ministry of Britain, of Africa and several others bearing official-looking crests Snape was not entirely familiar with. Beauxbatons' school officials made their entrance as grand as was to be expected, landing amongst the crowd in their carriage bourne by a team of grand winged Abraxans. But it was a small stumpy man who stepped out of that carriage, not the towering woman Snape had grown accustomed to as their headmaster.
Aurors lined the fields. A gathering of so many dignitaries welcomed attack. And attack they may, for this was a target-rich environment. But Snape had his doubts.
The Dark Lord, was a clever man. An attack of this magnitude would indeed inflict terror, but Snape doubted even the Dark Lord would risk a direct assault against the combined forces of the British Aurors and the security entourage that accompanied every national official that came to pay respects.
But he wasn't without preparation.
The setup of defences had begun by Snape's hand. At first subtly, an increase in fortification in several of the more time-worn corners of the school, a placement of hexes on the lesser known and lesser used magical passageways, windows set with unbreakable charms. Care taken to not upset the student body, or what remained of it. But there was no disguising the increase in gargoyle placements, or strategic manoeuvrings of suits of armour.
As classes were cancelled and the school was placed into a perpetual lull, Snape found ample time to set up the warding spells he felt were required. In his memory, the last battle of Hogwarts still waged. In his mind's eye he saw every blow that was rained upon the castle. He knew where the stones would fail. He knew the weaknesses those monsters and men had exploited.
The weight of the war fell upon Snape's shoulders now. An unusual outcome of what transpired that day at the Hog's Head Inn.
The moment when Snape laid the truth plain and clear, a thousand questions came thick and fast.
"Do you honestly believe we'd buy that?" asked James, incredulity painted upon his face.
"How long have you kept this a secret?" asked Bones, his one-note frown suggesting his words were more quantitative rather than emotional.
"What more are you keeping from us?" came the ever suspicious Moody, his electric blue eyes flashing like the madman his moniker foretold.
"How can we use it?" Aberforth probed. His question ever so reasonable.
But it was Minerva's question that had caught Snape off guard. "And how much more are you willing to give?"
It was never Snape's intention to lead, but from the moment heconfessed his origin, his dynamic with the people in this room shifted drastically. Though differing in reactions, every soul within that room hung onto the young professor's words. The truth about himself flowed on to that of the Horcruxes, of the plan set in motion by Albus Dumbledore to destroy them, and the crushing finality of their failure.
Sometimes, direction was all it took to inspire hope. "He died to give us this chance," Minerva uttered in finality. "I do not think there is anyone better suited to lead us than you."
And the pressure of it all, Snape felt. He received letters daily in his fireplace, owls being too conspicuous a method of delivery, and partial transposing Floo by ways of sticking one's head in the fireplace being far more subtle a method.
Missives from various agents both free and embedded, redirected from their handlers to Aberforth, and from his desk, to Snape's. If the young professor were at all honest, it did not come to him as a surprise that Aberforth was so eager to relinquish control. He had never relished the role he faced when Albus died in Snape's first life. And though Snape was never there to witness the Order's breakdown, he did not believe for a second that Aberforth's reluctance did not play a role in it.
There were more than a few Order members within the assembled official protectors themselves. Moody was obvious in his place shadowing the Minister's step, his electric blue eyes scanning the scape of the land before him. Bones strode the perimeter, observing his men and inspiring their focus.
But there too were enemies among these men.
Rookwood stood with a throng of Ministry officials, his specked features melding into the throngs. His vile viciousness concealed away by the same mask of mourning worn by all. Lucius too stood at the head of that Ministry row, standing in the place his father might have stood. Abraxas Malfoy had been struck down by the same Dragon Pox outbreak that afflicted the Potters. The same one that swept the Alchemy Conference. He would not be long for this world, something that Lucius, perhaps, was well aware of.
Lucius' eyes flashed a moment, catching Snape's. Those cold grey eyes meeting his own, devoid of emotion but so powerfully occluded. Snape turned away, his own Occlumency pressing about his mind.
Though Lucius had never shown any affinity for the Mind Arts, Snape did not survive for so long amongst such vipers by making light of presumed norms. If his once-favoured position among the Death Eaters had taught him anything it was that the Dark Lord was a gifter of dark miracles.
It was not just Lucius' eyes that turned Snape's way. All around him, eyes turned to him whenever they thought he was not looking. Though Snape could not hear their whispers, he could see the careful glimpses thrown his way, the half-fearful glances, the outright open stares.
He could feel Lily's fingers playing upon his own. Even conjured, he had sensation now. A gift of refinement that only a skilled healer like Poppy was capable of. Lily stood by him, garbed fully in black, her green eyes too glancing upon him, soft compassion held within. She could see the pressure he felt, she was too empathetic a soul not to.
He could not walk within the walls of Hogwarts without finding eyes fall upon him. Students and colleagues alike. From Filius, Pomona and Horace he received naught but sympathy that bordered upon pity. But he got little more than curiosity or doubt from all else. Even Poppy was quieter than usual, though no less professional, as she tended the hand she conjured for him. Binns' scatterbrained narcolepsy was comparatively a relief. But from Minerva, the doubt in her eyes stung.
The truth had a way of inviting more questions.
Suspicion no doubt played upon their minds. Of those he told the truth, no doubt their thoughts were awash by the revelation dropped upon them. Suspicion was warranted from the likes of Moody or Bones, he expected no less. Nor did he really believe he could walk away without suffering the dour glares of Aberforth. They had known the headmaster for far longer than they had known Snape, and rumour had ways of playing to unfounded doubts in one's mind.
That Snape had been by the headmaster's side on the night of his murder was news that spread as quickly as any unfavourable rumour. And as any rumour did, the details likely took on a life of their own. That would explain the glares directed upon him from wizards and witches he had never slighted, and for some, never met. Skeeter's articles no doubt fanned those flames. She may be bound to spy for their cause but that did not buy her loyalty or any obligation to paint them in any other light save her own.
She stood now with the media circus on the edge of the crowd, close enough to the lake for her photographer to capture, but not so close that a stray Grindylow might make off with her equipment. Her treacherous ways bent to serve the light in a manner only Albus could have achieved.
But Albus was gone now. And in his place, was left the shambles of the last resistance against the darkness. It would not take long for the Dark Lord to push. And if left to its own devices, it would not take long for the light to crumble. They would not win in a war of attrition. Fanaticism had a way of infecting all it touched the longer it was left unchecked, and courage had a tendency to wither in the face of diminishing odds.
But for the moment, the war had swung to their side. They were so close. Only one Horcrux left and with no others to follow. A Horcrux that the Dark Lord was likely to keep close for fear of its vulnerability and egotistical belief that the only place truly unreachable was by his side. A mistake spurred by his ego. One that could be made to advantage should they find the way to draw the Dark Lord out into a battle with odds stacked against his favour.
But that was the problem, wasn't it? Of all his flaws, recklessness wasn't one. Though he would become emboldened by Albus' death, he had never personally taken upon a field of battle save the war brought upon Hogwarts itself.
Spurred on by prophecy of doom, the Dark Lord took those words to heart. He placed himself in unfavourable danger to destroy a boy he believed himself destined to. Placing himself within arm's reach… to kill a boy marked by words he never personally heard…
Snape raised his eyes, gazing past the gawkers and the accusers, straight to the cold grey eyes of a man whose support had once been his only port in the storm of his miserable life.
Lucius dropped his gaze in a manner feigning a casual panning glance. Even he was not so brazen as to openly challenge Snape among so many, or at all. His own façade depended on Snape's continued apathy to his criminality.
A plan formed within Snape's mind. His knowledge of both past, present and future coming together to etch out a path. The path to victory, or utter defeat.
Snape was not a man to play by uncertain odds but victory required nothing less than everything he had now. He had to strike, and soon, for time to grow and fester was the greatest weapon that darkness could wield. But he needed to do it on his terms, to force the Dark Lord to pursue him to take the fight to a place where he did not hold the advantage. To Hogwarts.
Snape lowered his eyes as a hush fell upon the congregation. He felt Lily's hand curl about his, pulling his heart away from the dance of shadow that seeped through his thoughts. Though the tide of the war was turning against them, though the world stood upon the precipice once more, there was time still. A moment. A moment to remember the man who committed his life and talents to the light, and whose guidance gave them their first and, perhaps, last chance to triumph against the darkness.
"A moment if I may, Lucius."
The man in question slowed a step, casually detaching himself from his Ministry colleagues. "I think you'll find some of us do not have the luxury of an impromptu holiday."
Snape was not dissuaded, stepping in line with the taller man's stride. "Walk with me, Lucius. Much has happened since you left Hogwarts. We have some catching up to do."
"Do we now? I do not recall ever asking after you."
"I insist, Lucius." Snape uttered as he enshrouded the pair with a silent cast of the Muffliato Charm. "The conversation we need to have is not for outside ears."
Lucius' eyes narrowed as he slowed a step, subtly directing the pair of them away from the Ministry officials who were none the wiser to the treacherous snake amongst them. "I think it's a little late to change sides, Severus."
"It's not too late for you."
Lucius' eyes narrowed. "Me? Surely you jest."
A dry smile touched Snape's lips. "Do you believe so assuredly that you are on the winning side, Lucius? When you are forced to hide in the shadows and fear the day your name and number is surrendered to the governing officials?"
Lucius' calm did not falter. "Is this your idea of a threat?"
"Not a threat… but a warning. One offered between friends," Snape offered, his tone smooth.
Lucius might have scoffed if he could stomach the uncouthness of such an expression. "Oh, Severus. We were never friends. Forgive me for ever giving you the impression as such."
Slytherins were inherently suspicious, and Lucius was no different. "You had once asked, Lucius, for me to become an asset to you. You had given me gifts and offered me sponsorship. I have not forgotten that kindness." A touch of truth to coat his deceit. For what he needed to do, he needed Lucius to believe him. "We are friends enough for me to offer you a chance to preserve yourself. There is nothing you can do to stop what is to come."
Those grey eyes took on steel. "Pray, do tell."
At odds with the fear he felt, Snape felt his own heart pound within his chest, his skin prickling in warning. "What do you know of premonitions, Lucius?"
Those cold grey eyes narrowed. "I know that they are unwieldy and unpredictable. I know that few could claim to predict with any sort of reliability or precision, and fewer still under the age of a century. What are you trying to claim, Severus?"
What was he trying to claim? Lucius was as cunning and devious as Slytherins came. He was not one easily fooled. "Are you going to even consider what I say, or would I be wasting words upon you, Lucius?" Snape asked, feigning impatience as a lure for the man's curiosity.
"I can be swayed," Lucius remarked with a soft predatory lilt, seeming to take the bait.
Snape paused a moment, more for himself rather than for effect, before meeting Lucius' cold grey eyes. "I hope that is true, Lucius. Because if not, you will fall alongside your master. Alongside the others beneath those masks. Rosier, Nott, Crabbe, Mulciber, Rookwood." Lucius' eyes widened a margin. "Oh, am I not meant to know about Rookwood? Or what about Igor Kakaroff? He's only a recent addition to the Inner Circle, isn't he? Alongside Antonin Dolohov. Names that the Dark Lord's enemies should not yet have."
Those grey eyes widened in earnest, true shock held plainly within them. Fear, perhaps. But doubt had fled from within them. This was something no one outside the Inner Circle should know. Snape certainly hadn't the first time around. Not until he found himself on the inside of that exclusive coven of evil.
But he wasn't done. He had Lucius' attention, but he knew how to drive that nail in that inch further.
"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl, Lucius?" Snape asked, digging deep for memories of this time. Memories of talks of sentiment he had once held with Lucius once a semblance of friendship existed between them and the indulgence of wine paved a path from the sensibilities of shielding one's heart. And Lucius indulged in his drink, well past the point that wisdom dictates that one stop, and spoke at length of his misery and tribulations. Of how Narcissa pined for a child but one was not so easily forthcoming between them.
Snape took a breath, taking his time to steady himself. He was in no danger of being interrupted. "In one year you will be blessed with one. A son, born next year upon the eve of summer. He'll look just as you do, Lucius. You and Narcissa will argue over his name, but, she'll win. She's long thought of his name, long before he was even destined to be born. He'll be named Draco, after a constellation, as all Blacks seemed to take after."
Whatever shock Lucius felt passed by his face like a flitter, but there was little doubt he was on the back foot. Nothing disarmed a Slytherin like having your secrets laid bare. Especially, when those secrets are those held close to your heart.
"If you wish to remain a freeman for long enough to see your son, or indeed, conceive your son, I ask that you heed my words."
Lucius did not reply. His grey eyes never leaving Snape's, hanging upon Snape's word.
"If I live beyond this week, your master will fall. I have seen it," Snape stated, his heart beat fluttering in his throat. "And I intend to. Not even he could find a way to kill me in that given time. Not while I live still within the walls of Hogwarts."
Those grey eyes did not leave his. Fear standing where doubt had fled.
Once, Snape had been the man to bear a premonition he overheard to the Dark Lord's table. He had never heard the full premonition, having been ejected by the surly bar man. But even the delivery of a partial premonition of the Dark Lord's impending doom had been enough to send him on his dark crusade.
In this lifetime, it would be Lucius to bear that message.
Snape held no illusions that his words could sway the man. If he knew Lucius, he would take Snape's words to his master's side the moment he travelled far enough away to Disapparate. The taste of hope that Snape gave the man was not to sway him, but to instil the mortal fear of the future he could lose. Fear enough to sell Snape's word as truth to the Dark Lord.
It would not be the first time the Dark Lord marched upon Hogwarts for the sake of a premonition. This time, it would be on the defender's terms.
"That was reckless of you," Minerva chastised, echoing Lily's horrified mood.
She stared daggers at her husband, aghast at his admissions. Sev's new and more liberal approach to secrets was at first refreshing, but now it seemed mortally frightened.
Beside her stood James, silent, his mouth slightly agape. He hadn't said much of a word since learning of Sev's secret. And who could blame him? It was a lot to take in.
If Severus felt the sting of Lily's glare, he did not show it. He sat by the grimy second-storey window of the Hog's Head Inn, his black eyes unwavering to those gathered in the room. He had only recently delivered his plans to the leadership of the Order, only to reveal now that he had it set and it was already too late to change course.
He had framed himself as bait.
"You put a lot of faith that we can keep you safe, Professor Snape," Bones muttered, his brows furrowed in thought. "The Order does not have so many fighters that we can meet You-know-who's forces head on."
"Oh I think the prophecy will be discovered a ruse far sooner," Minerva offered, her brows knitted together in a pinched frown. "During my time in the Department of Law Enforcement, I've long heard rumours about the queer goings on in the Department of Mysteries. Do they not have a manner to retrieve and store Prophecies? Even without the explicit knowledge or consent of the prophet."
Lily could not help but feel a tendril of relief curl up from within her. The thought that Sev's ruse was not going to frame him in as much danger as she feared. That he hadn't just gambled his life in a manner she would hear no end to if she had been the risk taker.
Sev, however did not seem the least perturbed by the spanner in his metaphorical works.
"Those rumours are correct," he confirmed. Another of his mysterious offerings of knowledge that no man should have. "In my past life I too had the fortune of learning of such a place. Within the tangible flex and grasp of one of the Dark Lord's spies, no less. It took him a second war, near two decades later, to pursue an incomplete prophecy in those halls. Why would he wait when the solution was available and within reach of one of his trusted? That he did not make even a single attempt on that token at the height of his strength." He paused a moment. Ever the flair for the dramatic. "The conclusion is simple. It wasn't possible to obtain that prophecy then. Whether it laid out of reach by technicality, or its existence had not yet been formed by the methods employed within that enigmatic sector, it was simply beyond possibility."
Minerva's steadied her steely gaze upon the younger professor. "You base our next move entirely upon this… assumption?"
But Severus' nerves held strong against that challenge. "The Unspeakables have never made that knowledge available. So unless one of you Ministry workers have a method to their secret, we are operating on everything I know about the Dark Lord, not on the very little I know about prophecies."
"Do you know him?" Moody questioned, his tone as pointed as his stare.
Sev turned his dark eyes to meet the Auror's. "I have stood within the Inner Circle, at the Dark Lord's right hand. I have acted in that role, as a double agent for the Order, and survived. I doubt there is another soul who could claim to know him as well as I do." Sev paused a moment, panning the room, to meet every set of eyes upon him. "Where caution is a Slytherin's trait, the Dark Lord takes that to paranoia. He would not trust another if he had any other choice. If the Dark Lord had a way," he paused, turning away from Lily once again. "I have… seen him act… in the face of that partially heard prophecy. Murder a family, a baby, not even a year from his birth, all on a prophecy that the child might one day grow up to wield the power to strike him down."
This was what he was doing, baiting that tyrant with the very thing he knew had driven the fiend to his first doom. The very thing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could not ignore.
Lily looked away then, feeling sick to the pit of her stomach.
The leaders of the Order fell silent, seeming to muse upon Sev's words. Possibility seemed to form within the minds of the Aurors, while worry laid behind the furrows that formed upon Minerva's brows.
"We'll have the castle," Moody growled, pushing himself from his seat. "And we have the fighting force. Those children have had about a year's worth of training out of two half-decent duellists."
"We will not deputise the children," Minerva chastised swiftly.
Sev glanced to her, eyebrow arched. "Another lifetime ago, you were the first to weaponise your students. To save one boy, I might add."
Minerva turned her eyes upon him sharply. "I'll thank you for not comparing my actions to another that I have not yet become."
"Nor could I really see the two scenarios compatible," Aberforth assured. "We're nowhere near so desperate as to bolster our forces by drafting the children as soldiers."
"Good to know what my life is worth," Sev grumbled drolly. He didn't mean that, not really.
"But you cannot deny the tactical advantages the castle ground brings," Moody continued, not at all dissuaded by the resistance of his peers. "We have the advantage of mobility that having the headmaster on our side grants us. Our forces can Apparate to our side at a moment's notice, bolstering our strength at any given time."
Minerva swiftly shot down that idea. "Except that I am only the headmaster in every way but official title. I do not yet possess the full range of powers a true headmaster is afforded. Apart from myself, I can only grant permission to one other at any given time."
"So no quick deployment, not the end of the world," Moody shrugged, but his electric blue eyes shifted as if his thoughts roiled behind them. "But the castle we still have. Millennia of magical enchantments. Secret passages and guardians. Deadly creatures from within the castle, the lake and the forest."
"So you plan to scrape up an army with two score of wizards and witches and, what, a handful of centaurs? Listen to yourself, Alastor," Bones growled, folding his arms. "I agree the castle is a tactically advantageous staging ground but to face his army and take that trinket from his neck, we'll need more souls than the order can provide to man the ranks. Command's intel puts our enemy's forces to around about a hundred strong."
"We have better intel than that," Moody scoffed, turning to Severus. "Well? Out with it. How many do we face?"
Sev answered slowly, "The hundred your Ministry gave counts only the witches and wizards, and that number's still in the lower range of what it ought to be. That number does not account for the four-dozen werewolves, the two and a half dozen giants, or the hundred Dementors that serve in his army."
"Merlin," Bones muttered under his breath. "We don't have the force."
"I think you'll find that's been true since the beginning," Moody barked.
"A week… Merlin. We have a week?" Minerva sighed, running her fingers down the creases of worry in her brow.
"Less," Sev offered, not at all reassuringly. "I have never known the Dark Lord to sit upon his laurels when the way forward for him is clear."
"Why a week?" James finally spoke, his worries worn plainly upon his pale. "Why didn't you give us more time? We could have-"
"What? Recruited more to the cause? Teach your friends how to actually fight?" Sev interjected, his tone chastising. "Time benefits him, not us."
"Well the odds aren't exactly stacked in our favour right now, are they?" James snapped.
"And they never will be," Severus shot back. "And I have committed us. There is no changing course. Rather than whine about how hopeless it all is, why don't you find that Gryffindor courage of yours and contribute something constructive."
James stood from his seat so suddenly he sent it clattering to the floor. "Yeah. It's war. I get it. We all signed with our lives. But maybe you could have given us a fighting chance! Or, if that's too much to ask, how about some time to say goodbye to our friends and family?" In a huff he turned and flung open the door, stomping all the way down the rickety set of stairs.
Lily stood from her seat, following after James. Severus didn't call after her. Perhaps he sensed she needed a moment. Or perhaps he didn't. Her silence throughout the meeting was not unusual, for she normally had naught to say. She had spent the war sheltered from the worst of it, and possessed no real gift for warfare or strategizing.
No, the purpose for her invitation and continued inclusion had been to help Sev manage the shock and distrust that followed his revelation. He told her as much the moment they were alone the night after his revelation to the Order.
And she had been fine with that idea, then. She had been happy to have any purpose at all. And she knew what to expect from these meetings. The doom and gloom of the reports coming in. The vicious nature of the decisions being made.
But to know that Sev had anted his own life, without discussion, without second thought. It cut her.
A week was not enough…
James had honestly verbalised some of what she felt. A week was not enough to make peace with all those she might lose.
The clinking of bottles alerted Lily to James' location in the dingy bar. It was shut early for their meeting, out of respect for the mourning brother, so the sign hanging outside the establishment said. With all the doors shut and the windows shuttered, the shadows had little cause to hide.
"Left two galleons behind the counter. It'd pay for this bottle, and probably all the ale he has on tap." James muttered by way of explanation as he vaulted back over the bar with a bottle of amber in hand. "At least what it's worth."
Lily pulled up a stool beside his as he lined up two glasses.
"Pour you one?" James offered mutedly, pouring two out despite having not yet been answered.
"Can't," Lily returned, giving the young man pause. "I think my son appreciates alcohol less than even his father."
"Son?" James asked as he took his drink to his lips, before pausing in realisation. "Are you pregnant?"
"I am." This was a conversation she was ready and willing to have. She had been bursting to tell someone since finding out, but with everything that had happened since, it never felt like the right time.
James stared a moment, a smile creeping across his face. "Cheers to you and yours, Lily. I'll drink to your health and that of your baby." And with that he threw back his shot, pulling a face at the burn, or perhaps, the taste.
"We're naming him Albus," Lily continued, just glad to have something happy to talk about.
"In memory of gramps. I like it," James amicably agreed.
Lily found her hand glance absently upon her belly. There was nothing yet there to even indicate the life growing within. "We found out on the night… you know… he died. It only seemed fitting."
James huffed under his breath, a sound that sounded like strained laughter. "That sounds dangerously sentimental. I'm surprised Severus agreed."
"It was his suggestion," Lily retorted lightly. "And I'll have you know he's actually quite sentimental, though he'll never admit to it."
The smile slipped on James' features. "I swear I'll never understand the guy. I think I'm getting somewhere, and then bam! I find out something new about him. He's sentimental. He's lived a crazy decade-spanning second life. What next? He likes kittens?"
"If he does, I'll be delighted," Lily chuckled, feeling her mood shift from the knots that wound about her stomach.
Without a word he threw down the second shot he poured before tipping out another. "Then what do you think of it all? Everything he's told us?"
"I thought it made a lot of sense," Lily replied, more coolly than she had once felt about the whole thing.
James dropped his eyes to his drink pouring. "You've known for a while now, huh?"
"Not as long as you think. But long enough to get over the shock," she offered.
James glanced up, his drink clasped undrunk. "After you two got married?"
To which Lily confirmed, "After."
He let out a slow breath, taking his drink to his lips and sipping slowly, as if in thought. "What about your child. Will he know?"
Lily felt her stomach do a flip, right on top of the knot that had magically reformed. "I don't know," she answered. It wasn't thoughts she had yet had. "I think… I'll talk it over with Sev… and we'll come to it when we come to it."
James set his glass down, his face flush, his smile gone. "You may not have the time to come to it together."
And with that the looming war fell atop their heads. The conversation being had in the eaves above them. The consequence of Sev's commitment.
She felt the knot move to her throat. Fear and pride warring within her. Fear for what's to come, and pride for his courage to do it.
"If it comes to that… I think his son deserves to know what a brave man his father was," Lily uttered, passing her hand across her still-flat belly.
A stoic grimace drew across James' face. He nodded once and downed his drink as if toasting the sentiment.
The sounds of scraping furniture and shuffling footsteps signalled the end to the meeting. Lily glanced once to the still-empty stairwell before getting to her feet.
"One last question," James uttered as he struggled to his feet, the alcohol seeming to finally catch up to him. "When Severus told us about how the war ended the first time around, he said that You-Know-Who went after your child. He said your child, not his. You didn't marry him in that lifetime, did you?"
Lily gave the inebriated man a rueful smile. "He would have been a Death Eater. Why would I?"
"Who was the father?" James asked, his brows knitted over his earnest eyes.
"I think you know," was Lily's response.
A weak smile touched James' lips, before he turned to have one last drink for the road.
It did not take long for news of war to land upon Snape's mantelpiece. A note penned by Skeeter, sitting atop so many other news items that found their way to Snape's table.
The giants have come to camp.
That those he would deem as demi-human would be summoned within their midst told Snape that his ruse had found success. The Dark Lord was gathering his forces.
They did not have the numbers for what was to come. Snape knew this. He had seen it all before. The siege upon the castle. At the very least they would not march upon them in the numbers Snape had seen, for they had not yet the Ministry's support behind them. This was one conquest the Dark Lord had yet to manage.
In that came an opportunity. One Snape would have never entertained had the pieces not already been primed by the man who came before him. Another resource that could be called upon, staffed by those trained for the very battle Snape hoped to wage.
"I thank you for taking the time to see me." Snape uttered as he took his seat, tucking away his wand. He had used the invitation to collect his wand from the Ministry's evidence room as an opportunity to make one last contact. Across the desk sat a man whose shortness of stature did little to diminish his ability to loom.
"Whatever you have to say, make it quick, Professor Snape. I have a department to run."
Bartemius Crouch the Senior suffered no fools. His office painted little doubt of that. Sparsely and practically furnished with no waste on frivolity. A man after Snape's own heart if not for the knowledge of this man's son causing him to further fear his own impending fatherhood.
Snape folded his silver hand over his hand of flesh. "Very well, I'll make this brief. I want you to know I am Albus' successor in the Order of the Phoenix, and that his deal with you still stands."
Crouch's eyes narrowed. "Bold of you to confess to being member of, let alone the leader of an extrajudicial militant group."
"And that would concern me too, if not for our unique circumstances," Snape pressed on, playing politics on a stage far grander than any he had ever attempted. "You were on the verge of authorising a joint operation with Albus, were you not? On the promise that he could deliver you a vulnerable Dark Lord in concourse with an election victory."
Those cold grey eyes did not shift. "Unless you have the same grand sway with the public as he did, his deal died with him."
"At the end of this coming week, I may hold all the sway you need. Provided I survive."
Crouch's eyes narrowed upon him. "Do you know something we do not?"
There was no point in being coy. "In one week the Dark Lord will present us with a unique opportunity to strike him down once and for all. He will come for me with the goal of ending my life. He will march upon Hogwarts ground, and in doing so he will be webbed in place by the Anti-Apparition jinx that is seeded into the very grounds of the school. If cornered, he will not be able to retreat."
"And you know this for certain?" Crouch insisted, his tone taking an edge.
"I designed it," Snape confirmed. "I have placed my life upon the wager. If we fail, I will not be able to retreat either. I know the force coming for me. Two-hundred strong, not including the sub-humans, thirty-odd giants and three times as many Dementors. That is not a force I can face, even with the Order at my side. And you do want me to survive the war, Crouch. I insist."
Those grey eyes narrowed once more. An invitation to continue.
"I know the face and name of every witch and wizard at the Dark Lord's side. At the end of this war, you will need me to become the justice for the Wizarding World."
A/N: Sorry for the late update again. We're coming down to the final chapters now. I'm trying hard to settle down to write.
A thank you to my Beta readers Sattwa100 and thrawnca for your work on this chapter.
Next Update: Saturday 12th June 2021.
Chapter 95: The Hour of Dusk
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe and do not seek to profit in any way, shape or form from this fan work.