Chapter XI
The Death Curse
Ron was ecstatic when he found out about the Chudley Cannons playing in Hogsmeade. All the students seemed to be. Except there seemed to be one thing that spoiled the mood: that was that their chaperone was to be Professor Snape.
"I wonder why Dumbledore would choose Old Snape to take us on a trip to Hogsmeade. He'll spoil it," Ron grumbled.
Harry believed the same, but he had to agree that he would rather have Snape between him and a Death Eater than Sprout or Flitwick. "I think it's because he wants us to be safe," he reasoned while flipping through a page of Extracting Yourself from an Acromantula's Web and Other Sticky Situations.
Ron just snorted. "Then why not McGonagall?" He started to scratch his parchment with a quill pen, but then stopped. "Say, I know. It's you, isn't it?"
"Me?"
"Yes. It's because of you. If it weren't for you, we might have someone else."
"Ron, that's enough." Hermione looked flustered. "I'm sick and tired of how you've been acting. You try and start up an argument at every turn. Now stop it."
"So you're against me now, too? Well that's just bloody fine. Be all chummy with Harry and leave me out of everything. No one ever thinks about me. At home, it's Percy and Bill and Charlie and here, it's Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Nobody ever stops and thinks about Ron until I complain and then I'm told to shut my trap. Well, fine." He slammed his books shut and huffed up the spiral staircase.
All those in the common room who had been within earshot watched Ron leave then looked over Harry.
"Ron!" Hermione suddenly bolted up from the table. She ran across Dean Thomas coming down the stairs.
"Excuse me, Hermione, but you can't go up there. Those are the boys'…"
"Just watch me," Hermione declared, pushing Dean aside.
Harry couldn't hear anymore after that, and he thought it best not to follow. It wasn't until an hour had passed and it was time for Quidditch practice that he ventured upstairs to get his robes and put away his books. When he came to his room, Ron and Hermione were both seated on one of the beds, talking. They both hushed up when Harry entered. Quietly, he put his books away and once he grabbed his robes, he turned to both of them, "The whole common room is chattering, Hermione. You should probably come down soon."
At this, they both grinned. "What were they saying?" Their grins turned into giggles.
Harry had to smile, and he scratched his head.
"Look, Harry. Hermione was nice enough knock me aside the head and point out what a dunderhead I have been. I'm sorry." Ron screwed up his face into a sincere pleading look. "I suppose I just get tired of always have to be in someone's shadow."
Harry looked down at his Quidditch robes. "Ron, I really wanted to have you on the team but…"
"I know." Ron punched him lightly on the shoulder. "It wouldn't be fair. Besides, Fred and George promised to train me to become a beater, and personally, I'd rather be a beater over a keeper any day."
Harry felt a wave of relief sweep over him. Ron was speaking to him again.
"So you still coming to see the Chudley Cannons tomorrow?"
"I thought you were too angry about Snape coming," Harry pointed out.
"I am." Ron said firmly, but then put on his familiar grin. "But I'd be hornswoggled if I let that git ruin a Chudley game. I know, we can sit behind him and throw cockroach clusters at his head."
* * *
"You are all to stay together. Anyone caught wandering off will immediately lose twenty points from their house." Snape pointed his long nose at Fred and George.
They both grinned, put a hand over their heart and spoke solemnly, "You needn't worry about us, Professor."
Snape didn't seem too convinced, and neither did Harry, for that matter.
One good thing was that Professor LeSal had come along, and he seemed just as excited about the game as the students, though he appeared to be more of a hindrance to his cousin than help. They were all seated in the bleachers, waiting for the game to begin, Snape looking sour and LeSal munching from a bag of candy.
"Dumbledore must be angry at Snape to make him come out here," Ron thought aloud.
"No." Harry realized that he had never shared a certain bit of information. "He told him to come because Snape used to play Quidditch."
"What? Snape used to play Quidditch?" Fred and George had overheard. Ron and Hermione both looked shocked as well.
"You've got to be kidding." Ron glanced over at Snape, looking baffled.
"Yup, he was on the Slytherin team, of course. Him and LeSal were beaters."
George laughed. "I can definitely see LeSal—but Snape?"
"Hey, Weasley!"
Their attention was diverted to Draco Malfoy, sitting comfortably amongst a group of Slytherins seated by Professor LeSal.
"What is it, Canary—oops, I mean Ferret, oh no. I've seem to forgotten your name," Fred called back.
Draco turned very red at this. "Watch it you. And I was speaking to your little brother…"
He was about to say more when Snape called out, "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for starting an argument."
LeSal stopped munching from the bag of candy, an expression crossing his face that clearly showed that he saw the injustice that was just dealt. "I forgot to thank you, Dennis," he called out, "for helping me clean out the broom shed last week. I'm adding five points to Gryffindor."
Snape turned around at this, looking startled and then angry. The Slytherins seated around him appeared the same. LeSal took notice that he was suddenly, for the moment, unpopular among those nearest him.
"Fizzing Wizzbies?" he offered, presenting the bag of candy to Snape. He offered it around to Draco and others nearby when Snape only curled his lip at the bag and faced the other way.
"I still don't know what to think of him," Hermione admitted quietly. "Like how he hangs around the Slytherins yet lends a Firebolt to Dennis Creevey. It was never determined to be jinxed, was it?"
"No," Harry shook his head.
Their attention was shortly turned toward the game as the players entered the field. Ron and Harry shot up from their seats, waving little orange flags.
There were decidedly more fans for the Cannons than the Steamers, whose colors were grey. Small grey flags waved as a smoking steam engine raced around the field then disappeared. Next, a team of Magus Mares rolled out a cannon onto the field while Fred and George began a loud and humorous chant that actually caught the attention of one of the beaters who grinned and gave them a thumbs-up.
The booming voice of an announcer proclaimed the game had begun and the chest containing the balls was unlatched.
Harry nudged Ron as the beaters began to fly after the bludgers. "I want you to watch them. Learn some moves you can use next year."
* * *
The game was going well for the Chudley Cannons who were leading by seventy points after the first half hour. Harry had been swapping tips for beaters with Ron when a strange sensation crept over him. It started out as just goose bumps on the back of his neck and along his arms. Then it started: the deathly chill he feared so much.
Dementors.
Clearly, they weren't close. Not yet. No one else seemed to be affected, but he knew what it was. The game had been blocked out of his mind, and he focused over to where the Snapes sat. They evidently realized something wasn't right either: LeSal had climbed up to the top of the bleachers and was scanning out past the blissfully ignorant crowd. Snape had remained seated, but was no longer watching the game. Harry wondered if they knew it was a Dementor.
Shakily, he stood up and headed over to Professor Snape, receiving odd looks from his peers.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.
But Harry didn't answer. He had to use all his strength and concentration left to wee his way through the crowded bleachers. Snape took notice that he was approaching, and instead of the unpleasant look Harry had become accustomed to, he actually looked worried.
"Professor," Harry gasped. The cold was getting stronger and was beginning to constrict his throat.
"I know." Snape pulled him down. "But we'll handle it, Potter. You stay here." Harry seemed to confirm what the Snapes feared and Professor Snape stood up and joined LeSal.
"You wouldn't happen to know what's going on?" Harry asked Malfoy.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Malfoy replied, but he didn't sound entirely truthful. In fact, he looked nervous, something that Harry didn't take to be a good sign.
Harry squirmed in his seat, then held his head. His scar was beginning to hurt.
His surroundings seemed to have completely vanished: the crowds, the announcer, and the Quidditch players. Quietly, as if in the distance, he could hear his father's voice. Think of something happy, he told himself as he fumbled for his wand. Ron. Ron and I are friends again. And Sirius and Lupin are back. I'll see them when this is over and tell them all about the game.
This helped a little. Enough that he could focus on what was going on around him. There were screams, but they began to dim.
"Harry, Harry!" Someone was shaking him. "We've got to go." It was Hermione.
"Potter, now," said a much deeper voice. A firm hand grabbed him by the back of the robes and hoisted him up. "Enervate," the voice mumbled, and suddenly, Harry found himself staring at chaos.
"Students!" Professor Snape bellowed; he was still gripping Harry's robes. Strangely, Harry noticed a strong smell coming from Snape's robes and tried to pin point it. Formaldehyde, yes, that was there, but something else…Malfoy was running around, scared with the rest of the crowd, so he didn't take notice of Harry's predicament. "All of you are to calm down now and follow Professor LeSal back to the school. You will only be safe if you stay with us."
At once, LeSal raised his staff. The normally soft, blue light grew in brilliance, casting a blue hue over all the students. It was strangely soothing. "Now follow me," he ordered while lowering the staff.
Earl Grey, that is what he smelled: Earl Grey tea. Snape dropped him into the crowd of students after he realized this.
Quietly, the students followed, finding that they didn't feel like talking and to panic seemed absurd. Whatever spell LeSal had cast over them subdued their panic. Harry knew that Hermione would be looking up the spell as soon as they returned to the school.
LeSal had sought out the head boy and girl, who seemed to be leading the students once they gout out of Hogsmeade. Evidently, he was going to stay behind and help Professor Snape get out of whatever trouble would be heading his way.
Harry was following at the rear of the crowd when he was struck with another bout of pain. He immediately brought his hand to the scar and fell to his knees.
"Oh, no. Not again!" Ron and Hermione began to pull on him.
But this wasn't the chill of the Dementors. This was the burning of his scar. LeSal noticed immediately.
"Miss Granger, you and Mr. Weasley get back to the school and get to Dumbledore. Tell him that we've got a problem… though I don't think the Death Eaters have been summoned… I'm not quite sure what's going on."
"But what about Harry?" Hermione demanded to know.
"You just concentrate on getting to Dumbledore. I'll see to Harry." Professor LeSal then knelt down before Harry while Hermione and Ron took out running toward the school.
At first, all that Harry noticed was that the pain began to recede. A soft, cooling sensation came to him, as if someone had put a cool, wet, rag to his forehead. He opened his eyes to see a deep blue, almost purple glow.
"That better?"
He looked into LeSal's black eyes—they were so much like Snape's, it was uncanny.
"I need you to get up, if you can." LeSal was being very careful not to touch him, though Harry could tell that he wanted to help. So he nodded and slowly rose to his feet on his own, almost falling backwards; he was still so unsteady.
"Now, I'm going to need you to go back…" but LeSal didn't get to finish his sentence. Instead, he had stopped to look down the road. Snape was running as hard as he could toward them.
"What's Potter still doing here?" he demanded while trying to catch his breath.
"His scar was hurting him," LeSal informed.
Snape's eyes widened. For a moment, he even looked afraid, but it quickly disappeared. "He's not supposed to be here," he said this looking back toward the village, evidently, not meaning Harry.
"I know, and I still don't think he is. I would have known—unless…he's onto us."
At this, they both looked nervous. It got Harry feeling very afraid. He wanted to return to the safety of Hogwarts now.
"Can he cut you off?" Snape asked importantly.
Harry wondered at what he meant as LeSal shook his head. "I'm pretty sure he can't, especially after that last concoction he served up for me."
"Then can you tell if it's him?"
Harry found his own breath to be too loud as LeSal silently stared down at the dirt road. His eyes seemed to be looking deeper, not merely at the dirt, but into some unseen place. After what seemed like hours, he snapped out of his quiet trance.
"No, he's not here. But yet…" he trailed off and looked toward town again. "I sent some students to fetch Dumbledore," he said in a whisper.
"Harry," Snape said softly, while looking off into the opposite direction of his cousin, keeping an eye out should some Dementors—or who knows what, appear. "See those barrels over there? I need you to hide behind them."
At first, Harry was taken aback by the fact that Snape had addressed him by his first name, but he wasted no time in following his advice and scuttled behind the barrels.
No sooner had he situated himself in hiding, than he felt the familiar chill pass through his body once again. He peered through two barrels to see that the Snapes were both facing toward the town, tense and ready. Their acute sense of the Dementors had to be admired, and he was actually relieved that Dumbledore had sent the Snapes in place of some other professors.
They appeared silently, sweeping over the ground as a dark shadow. Their clammy grey hands poking out from under their heavy black robes. Harry couldn't stand it. He wanted so badly to conjure up a Patronus and make them go away. He didn't understand why the Snapes just stood there, waiting, as the Dementors kept coming.
"Do something," he whispered as yet again the cold swept through him.
Just when it seemed to become unbearable, he watched as LeSal stepped forward. He planted his staff firmly on the ground before him, and it began to glow. As the light became brighter, the coldness that had settled itself inside Harry began to diminish; the purple light seemed to have the power to melt away the iciness.
For a brief time, the Dementors stopped, seemingly puzzled at what was before them, but it did not take them long to move forward again. LeSal threw a glance that Harry read as asking permission to do something. Snape nodded once and LeSal again faced forward. Slowly, the stone in his staff, while still holding the brilliant light, faded from purple, to blue, to green. He then took a brave step forward.
"I am Salazar Snape, servant to Lord Voldemort, keeper of the Staff of Orkney, and I order you to turn back now."
They stopped abruptly at this. It was becoming difficult for Harry to discern what exactly was happening, for when the light of the staff had gone green, the cold had returned with full force and seemed to be tearing through his insides. He wanted so much to watch, but he bent over his knees and began to fight the urge to pass out. The Snapes would know how to handle a regiment of Dementors and he would gladly allow them to tackle the task without him.
Salazar's speech also had a cold effect. To hear the way in which he called out his position in Voldemort's closest circle made Harry think of the circle of Death Eaters that had stood around him, hanging over like a pack of vultures, ready to watch him die. He had to remind himself that he knew where Salazar's loyalties lay—with Dumbldeore. Yet, he still found him to be quite frightening. His whole countenance had taken on the resemblance of one of the stone gargoyles that sat perched on some of the highest points of the Hogwart's Castle. He looked less the Hogwarts Professor and more the frozen hearted Death Eater.
However, he did not seem to intimidate the Dementors to obey as they began to glide forward once again.
"Who is controlling them?" LeSal exclaimed as he retreated to Severus' side.
"Where's Albus?" Snape replied nastily.
"I don't know, but I say that we take care them now." LeSal sounded very firm.
Without another word, they both looked behind them, most likely one last hope to see if Dumbledore was on his way, and Snape raised his wand while LeSal held up his staff.
Harry strained to see, eager to see what Patronus Professor Snape would create. And not only that, but he wondered at what happy thought Snape could use to bring about a strong enough Patronus to banish so many Dementors. However, that is not what he got to see.
Snape took one last glance over his shoulder then him and LeSal grasped each other's free hand and held it up.
"Trucido Incendium," came Snape's voice, loud and clear in such a tone that Harry felt like shirking back as far as he could behind the barrels.
At once, there was a blinding flash of light. It came both from Snape's wand and the stone in LeSal's staff then combined into one great stream of green light. The Dementors crouched and made a harrowing sound unlike anything Harry could imagine. If it was possible for them to do so, it seemed like a scream of sheer terror, a scream that disappeared as the light became so bright that Harry had to turn away.
When the light dimmed and faded away, the chill from the Dementors had left as well. Cautiously, Harry peered around a barrel. What he saw, strangled the breath from his throat.
Where the Dementors had stood now wafted smoke from piles of smoldering ash. Harry had always wondered what type of curses might lie in the screaming book he picked up his first year while in the restricted section, and he had a strong feeling that the one that the Snapes had just used might be one of them along with the three Unforgivable Curses. He began to wonder what Dumbledore's reaction to this would be, but he didn't get the chance to ponder it for too long: a large hand unexpectedly reached out and pulled him out from the barrels. Before he could do anything, there was a wand to his throat.
"Cornelius Fudge! What are you doing?"
"Quite impressive, I must say," his voice was trembling and Harry could feel that the Minister was physically shaking, as he couldn't keep his wand steady. "I never thought it possible to get rid of so many Dementors at once. I must say, you two are formidable. I only wish that I knew where your loyalties lay."
The way the two Snapes were approaching it reminded Harry of the slither of a pair of cobras.
"Our loyalties, Fudge? I was just about to question yours," Snape said calmly.
"I thought it was just a ruse; your spying for Dumbledore; a way to cover your backside like all the other Death Eaters. You two were too power hungry not to follow Lord Voldemort."
"So what is it you're trying to do?" Snape asked warily.
"What am I trying to do?" Fudge chortled insidiously. "I'm the Minister of Magic, what else do you think I'm doing but trying to keep the Ministry afloat!"
"And how do you propose to do that, now that you've broken from Dumbledore?" LeSal challenged, continuing to step forward.
"I know what I'm doing—that's far enough. A step closer and the boy gets a good strong curse."
"What do you plan to do with Mr. Potter?" Snape asked. He was holding his wand down at his side, but his knuckles were white from clenching it.
"This boy is a peace offering," Fudge explained.
"A peace offering?" LeSal exclaimed in such a tone that his voice squeaked on the last syllable.
"Lord Voldemort's going to win, no doubt about that." Fudge began to speak quickly, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. "And if he's to come to power, there's no reason why the Ministry can't continue under him. Sure things will change, but I'm willing to cooperate."
"You're mad. Utterly mad." LeSal's staff began to glow a bright green. "Lord Voldemort won't be persuaded with a peace offering."
"I'm warning you," and Fudge jammed his wand deeper into Harry's throat. "I'm going to take Mr. Potter here to Lord Voldemort himself. He'll see I'm willing to cooperate."
At this, Harry felt his heart jump, but looking over at Professor LeSal and Professor Snape, he knew that they weren't about to let this happen. He just began to worry about what tactic they may use to stop Fudge.
Fudge meanwhile, began to back up around the building. He seemed to be inching toward a bucket: a portkey, no doubt. Quietly, Harry began to damn the Dementors for making him so weak. He felt physically helpless at the moment, unable to break free from Fudge's grasp.
Snape seemed to have had quite enough. "Expilliarmus," he muttered, raising his wand quickly.
There was a flash of red light, but Fudge successfully blocked it. "Maybe I'll turn in two nasty little finks while I'm at it," he swore furiously, and he reached out with his foot for the bucket. "Harry Potter and the uncovering of two spies. That'll be quite a gift."
It was difficult to know exactly what happened next, but there was a flash of green light directed at Fudge, who instinctively pushed Harry in front of it.
Pain immediately ripped through him. Harry had felt this once before and had never wanted to experience it again. Despite Fudge's attempts to hold him up, he sank to the ground from the effects of the Cruciates curse.
"Damnit!" LeSal screamed, and the pain left as quickly as it came, leaving only a dull throbbing in its place.
"Salazar, stop!" Harry heard Snape yell, but it was too late. There was a second flash of green light, a soft thump on the ground nearby, and silence.
Carefully, Harry rolled over and found himself staring into Fudge's blank, staring eyes. He was pale and still—just like Cedric Diggory that night in the graveyard.
A/N: Raven Dancer, you'll probably notice that Snape's robes smelled like Earl Grey. Yes, I did get that from one of yours. It seemed fitting, but so did the Formaldehyde. J
