Wishes
By: Airelle Vilka
Chapter 25 Mortis
Fifteen minutes had passed in silence since Noah Lieton's departure, and there was no sound at all from the six people in the darkened cell, save for the occasional whimper from Neville. He still had not awakened, and seemed to be having a bout of nightmares that no one could help him with. Airelle slumped against the barren stone wall and buried herself into her own little world. At least thank God for Neville's not being conscious, she told herself over and over again. After what happened to his parents, and now to him, Airelle doubted the boy's sanity would be able to take on Voldemort.
How could she have been so dim-witted? How? From the start, she should have suspected him. Snape had, at least a little; this was why he'd been so harsh on Longbottom all year. He did not believe, like Airelle did, that Neville could've suddenly gained that much courage—playing Quidditch when months earlier, he could barely ride a broom. And Airelle thought it was due to her lessons. Snape had cornered Neville on Christmas Day, after the game--he was suspicious even then. She sighed and shut her eyes tight. Some teacher I'm pretending to be…
That last thought made her open her eyes again, and look up slowly to the wall opposite her, where Severus Snape stood still as a statue, completely immobile, his eyes like black glass. Supposing I come over there and smack him in front of all these students, mused Airelle, then yell at him to snap out of his daze, then hug and kiss him until we're pried from each other by our cold, dead fingers.
Instead, she rose quietly (there was no need; no one seemed to be interested in looking anywhere but the floor) and crossed the room, stopping in front of her best friend and placing a hand on his sleeve.
"I know this is probably not the best time," she murmured, "but… forgive me, for not listening to you. I should have paid more heed, and let you have your way… it is my fault we are incarcerated here." Finding no more words in her vocabulary, Airelle looked at her hand, and withdrew it from Snape. She doubted if he even heard her.
But, apparently, he did.
"You are not to blame," he said, and his voice sounded hoarse, as if he'd been screaming for the past hour. "I should have known sooner."
"But if I hadn't bothered you about Neville's past and how you were biased against him," she protested, not caring that she was speaking in the presence of Gryffindor students, "maybe you could have followed your instincts and—"
"You were right in your words back then. Longbottom's past is not to be trifled with. It is a proven fact."
"One that helped cloud my judgment."
"Both of our judgments, Airelle," he replied softly. "Both."
The ex-Auror bit her lip so hard it bled a little. After what seemed like an eternity, she asked, "What are we to do?"
Snape was silent, and Airelle, finding she could not get a satisfactory reply, dragged her feet back to her side of the cell and sat down, deep in thought. There's got to be a way. There's always something… and I bet it lays in whatever Noah and I are going back to Hogwarts for. But why—
A voice interrupted her thoughts out of the dark.
"Professor Vilka?"
"Yes, Miss Tylon?" Airelle sighed wearily. Was she really getting too old for this, or did the cell somehow drain her of energy?
Alica and Tracy had stood up, and came over to sit by her. With uncertainty, and in tones very unlike their usual energetic ones, they said simultaneously, "We have something to tell you."
Airelle's face stretched into a weak smile. "One at a time, please. My brain can't process two voices at once, I think."
Tracy Patts began, "A few months ago… we… took something we weren't supposed to. I don't know," she added quickly, seeing the look on Airelle's face and misinterpreting it for surprise, "if this has anything to do with our…situation, but I think we should tell you anyway."
"If this is about that little notebook that you lost on the night of the Yule Ball," she said, "you're forgiven."
Alica's jaw dropped. "You…you KNOW?"
"Of course we know," said Snape from the shadows. "We were there."
"But… but…" Tracy stammered, unable to find breath enough to speak coherently. "…You couldn't have…"
"And why not? We are professors, after all," mumbled Airelle.
Tracy was about to say something else, but was cut off by a new voice. Ron.
"Professor," he said carefully, "do you really think this… notebook… was stolen by Noah?"
"I'd believe it," replied Airelle, frowning. "They were Voldemort's old schoolbooks, after all."
Alica looked like she wanted to die. "VOLDEMORT?! You mean," and she pointed outside the cell, where the image had long since disappeared, "that Voldemort?"
Airelle nodded. "Yes…there's only one of him, thank heavens."
"Oh, dear," Tracy moaned. "We've really done it now."
"Then it's clear," said Ron, and sounded too sure of himself for a fifth-year. "He must be after those notebooks."
"But why?" asked Snape, and the question was more to himself than anyone around. "What did he hide in them?…"
"If it were a curse of some sorts," mused Airelle, "we would have encountered it when we blasted the cabinet open."
"Maybe it needs an invocation."
"Hmm," said Tracy.
"Yes, but then why didn't Dumbledore just destroy the books?"
"Dumbledore hid them there?"
"Yes," said Airelle. "At least we believe so."
"Oh, really…"
"And why does Noah want you to go get the books for him, Professor?"
"D'you think it's really a curse in there?"
"What sort of curse, I wonder?"
"Hmm…"
"And what could—"
"SILENCE!" Snape roared, and everyone jumped. No one had, apparently, expected him to get out of his self-contained trance so soon.
"Much better," he said, taking charge of the conversation and sweeping closer. "Now, it is clear to me that in order to take action, we must discover what we are up against."
"No shi—mph!" Alica had wisely clamped a hand over Tracy's mouth.
"If I must remind you, Miss Patts," Snape sneered brutally, "I am still your Professor, and you should treat me and Aire--Ms. Vilka… accordingly."
"Yeah," muttered Ron quietly, with an undeniable bitterness, "you, for one, really deserve it… Death Eater."
Snape looked outraged. "Two hundred points from Gryf—"
"QUIEEET!!" This time, it was Airelle who stormed up and glared at both Ron and Snape. "You are acting like toddlers, the both of you! For shame! We are in mortal danger, this is no time for silly arguments or points that will be worthless if we all DIE in here!!" Her face had turned a brilliant shade of violet with rage, and Snape stared at her like she'd toppled straight off her rocker. So, interestingly enough, did Ron Weasley. The good part was, it shut both of them up.
Airelle heaved out a big sigh to steady her nerves, and sat back down (Tracy and Alica's mouths were still gaping open in shock). "Now," she continued, in a voice of deadly calm, "Professor Snape, I believe you were speaking of those books?"
Still staring at her in awe, Snape made an effort to sit down on the floor, but instead wound up nearly sitting on Neville. Airelle had to work her facial muscles furiously to keep from laughing. It was truly remarkable—the fact that she was in a cell without her wand, awaiting her impending doom, and still managed to find things funny.
Tracy took another look at the thin, ghostly bars, and said quickly, "Right, Professor. Tell us what you know."
"The first thing is fairly obvious," Snape replied after a while. "We must speak with the person who may remember the truth." One of his long, thin fingers drew up and pointed to the unconscious fifth-year Gryffindor.
"By Merlin's wand, you may be right," said Airelle. "I hope he can tell us something…"
"But Professor," said Ron, looking at Neville's form with some apprehension, "d'you think it's a good idea waking him? He's been through—"
"That'll be nothing compared to what he'll go through," replied Airelle, kneeling by Neville's side as the rest cleared room for her, "if he falls into the hands of anyone out there, on the other side of those bars."
Ron looked embarrassed; his face was as red as his hair. Airelle smiled.
"Don't worry, I won't frighten him too much," she said reassuringly. Snape did not look convinced, but was silent. Strangely enough, Airelle had forgotten about having to be comforting to Snape—even though she was certain he was in a great deal of pain. The Dark Mark was on the surface of his left arm again, sizzling into his skin anew, as if it had just been planted there. He didn't show any signs, but Airelle knew her best friend was suffering. And the odd thing was—she was more worried about Neville than Snape. And she loved Snape to death. Right? She had forgiven him, after all…for giving her a nearly fatal blow on Graduation Night years ago…
"You selfish bastard. You want the easy way out, and you drag me into it by playing on the friendship I have with you?"
"Airelle--"
"No." Her voice had broken, and she had to lower it down to a whisper. But she still continued to look into his eyes, those beautiful black eyes, a reflection of hers that she did not recognize anymore. "No, damn it, I'll keep speaking. I won't let you see me cry. Never. As your friend, I love you, more than you'll ever know, you bastard, and I hate you and myself for it."
"Airelle—"
"Yes! That's my name! Airelle Vilka, of Ravenclaw house, who doesn't understand a blasted thing about her friends! Is that it? I'll never join. Never. Do you hear me…" Her voice was the faintest whisper by now. "Never." And she just kept repeating the word.
His eyes darted in hers. "You really mean what you say."
She bit her lip. "Yes. I do."
Right. She loved him enough to trust him. He'd take care of his wounds while she mended another's.
A voice dragged Airelle out of her reverie. She didn't realize she had been shaking Neville continuously, methodically, without stopping. And it was his voice, talking.
"Pr…Profess'r…"
"Shh," she murmured, cradling his head in her lap while the others watched in silence. "I'm here. Regain your breath, and don't get up."
Of course, he did not listen. Blast that Gryffindor rashness.
"But—" Neville bolted upright, "that lady—Delilah, she's in trouble—" His face fell when he finally observed the surroundings.
"Please, tell me this is another nightmare," he said upon seeing Snape. "Please."
"Unfortunately, no," Airelle replied. "Something worse."
"Does that man who hurt Delilah have us hostage?" Neville's eyes looked at Ron pleadingly, and he nodded.
"Oh…" Longbottom was beginning to look frantic, and Airelle did not wish to attract attention from the outside of the room if he began yelling wildly for help. She needed to ask him, now.
"Neville, we're counting on you for something of crucial importance," she urged, and his eyes widened. "Try and remember anything you witnessed, anything at all."
The boy bit his lip and looked at Snape again, who greeted him with the same unpleasantness he always did. Airelle frowned, but had no time for small talk.
"C'mon, Neville," added Tracy, sidling closer to him. "Think… when did you first encounter Noah Lieton – that man – and Delilah?"
"Oh, I… remember almost everything," he said hesitantly, and Airelle's eyes shone with anticipation. "It all happened at the Yule Ball… I guess I never should have picked up that silly book from the library…"
Alica stared at him. "YOU took it?"
"Well," he answered, shrugging, "I was up there wandering the night of the Ball… I did not have a date. So, um…I passed by the library and started looking around, since I never go much in there…"
Snape looked like he wanted to say something along the lines of 'That's for sure,' but a murderous look from Airelle kept him, thankfully, from it. Neville paused before he continued, seeming to realize for the first time that he was nude under the two cloaks Airelle had given him, and conscientiously wrapping them tight like a toga.
"And then, I saw it… this tiny thin notebook. It was lying there without an owner. I thought someone had forgotten it, and since Ravenclaws had study hall in the library that day, I thought of returning it… I went with it into the corridor and flipped some pages open. Most of it was written in a language I'd never seen before… and just when I began thinking of putting it back and not bothering—the strangest thing happened… a parrot flew up to me right then and there, and sat on my shoulder."
"Noah," said Ron.
"Yes, him. And I was interested, I mean… no animal had ever been so friendly, and I'd never seen a parrot before. This one could even talk, and do tricks. And so… I started talking to it… since there was no one to talk to, and I felt…"
"Go on," said Airelle soothingly.
"I felt…lonely. Everyone else was at the ball, and I always talk to Trevor…" Snape was the only one who gave him a strange look, but Airelle understood. She talked to Avalon all the time—told the little owl about her worries, her fears… it was no wonder a boy picked on and bullied was a prime target for someone like Noah Lieton. It was like a moth attracted to a flame. Good Lord.
"Hmm," said Alica. "And what'd you tell him?"
"Just sat on the floor next to the library and blabbed on about everything--my classes, broom practicing with Professor Vilka…" A pink blush crept onto his plump cheeks, and Airelle did her best to retain her blank expression. Snape did not say a word.
"…and then, I opened the notebook again, and playfully asked the parrot if he could understand any of it, since I couldn't."
"Well, what do you know?" said Airelle. "Looks as if he knew more than you thought."
"Mm-hmm… I opened it to the first page—the last was missing… but the first one bore a name…what was it?—"
"T.M. Riddle, 1942?" asked Airelle quietly.
"That's it!" he exclaimed. "Who is he, anyway?"
"Voldemort," Snape replied bluntly, and Neville winced.
"That… must explain why the parrot suddenly started being jittery. Eventually, it flew off, and I thought nothing of it… until half an hour later, a lady came up to me—Delilah. She had a lost look about her."
"The Imperius Curse," said Snape as everyone else cringed visibly.
"So, let me recreate this scenario," said Airelle, licking her dry lips. "Noah comes to Hogwarts, with the intended plan of killing Snape and taking his place. While Delilah is talking with Lupin—I saw her that night at the ball—Noah flies around looking for a host body to use for his Polyjuice Potion. He sees Neville, and chooses him. You, Neville, happen to have in your possession one of Voldemort's mysterious notebooks, which Noah recognizes. It sends him up in a flutter, and he goes off to get Delilah, who is under the Imperius Curse and is instructed to follow him. Once away from the bustle in the Great Hall, Noah changes into his true form, takes his wand from Delilah, and leads her to the corridor next to the library."
"That should have been the first clue," said Snape softly. "Noah, when he was using Polyjuice Potion, told us that he met Delilah while she was looking for the bathroom."
"And Delilah was a transfer student at Hogwarts only a few years previously!" said Ron. "How could she not remember where the bathroom is?"
"All right, Neville," Airelle prompted for him to continue, "and then what did Noah do?"
Neville shut his eyes tight, as if he were trying to remember. "Then… I felt very light. He put me under the Imperius Curse and took the notebook from me. He then led us inside an empty classroom and contacted You-Know-Who, I guess."
"That must mean Noah's plan changed abruptly!" said Tracy gleefully, wringing her hands in her lap. "He was no longer focused on killing Sna—err, Professor Snape, but on something else…"
Neville shrugged. "Anyway, I didn't see or hear You-Know-Who…it looked like Noah was talking to himself. Delilah and I stood there, paralyzed by his command. After he finished talking, he ordered us to go to the Forbidden Forest. Everyone who saw our shadows in the distance thought we were a couple… no one suspected anything…"
"And where was Noah?"
"Back as a parrot, on her shoulder. He could still give us commands, since parrots can talk."
"Whew," Ron heaved out a sigh of horror. "I'll never look at 'Polly-Want-A-Cracker' the same way again."
"No kidding," said Alica Tylon with a grin.
"And in the forest," Airelle continued, "Noah stunned you."
"Yes…and I remember nothing more."
Quickly, Airelle filled him in on what Noah had done afterwards, and as a result causing the boy's look to grow progressively worse.
"So," she finished, "we were hoping to find out what exactly Voldemort talked to Noah about."
"WAIT!" shouted Alica suddenly. "WAIT JUST A BLOOMIN' MINUTE!! I forgot—we still have—this!"
Everyone looked on curiously (except Tracy, who looked ecstatic) as the Ravenclaw student pulled another thin, emerald green book from the inside of her robes. It was the book she had bought at Natalie Willows Umbëre's shop just a few hours earlier.
"Thank Merlin they didn't take this from me," she muttered, throwing the book on the floor and opening it. "Maybe it'll help us in figuring out what was inside…"
For the first time, Airelle saw the title. It read, in faded gold lettering: Deciphering Ancient Symbols: A Beginner's Manual.
"How will that help?" asked Ron, making a face. "We don't have the notebook to compare."
"We may not have the whole book," said Tracy triumphantly, reaching into her sleeve, "but…"
And at that, she drew out a piece of parchment, folded many times over.
"Care to guess what this—"
"The missing last page from the book you had taken," said Snape, seizing it from her and unfolding it before she finished speaking. "You tore it out to try and decipher the writing, and then wound up forgetting the matter and leaving the book carelessly in the library. And later, being worried, you decided to buy something in Ms. Umbëre's store that could help you."
Tracy looked miffed, but stayed silent as they all bent over the worn paper.
"All right, Airelle," said Snape, "flip to the middle of the book and see if you can find some of these symbols—the one that looks like an L with a curvy flourish on top… it appears frequently. Some of these are runes drawn on paper--this is…remarkable."
Hastily, as if the door would open any second (which it could, technically), Airelle flipped through the pages.
"L with curvy flourish… curvy…flourish…" she was speaking to herself, reading faster, so fast her eyes began to sting. "Curvy—Aha! Here it is!"
"You found it?" asked Alica excitedly, as if they were exploring the meaning of a treasure map. Well, here, the treasure could mean their lives…
"Yes…just let me find the right flourish—"
But Ron Weasley saw it before Airelle scrolled down the list.
"It means Mors," he said aloud, and Neville looked up, frightened. "Any of you know Latin? Because this squiggle on it means something called Nigra."
"Mors Nigra?" Airelle repeated as Snape turned pallid. "Mors Nigra…Latin… Latin for…" She paused. "The Black Death."
"Black Death?!" Alica and Tracy chorused, and everything was silent for a full ten seconds.
"Then, the prophecy is true," said Snape finally, in such a horrid tone that it nearly pierced Airelle's ears.
"What prophecy?" she asked, cocking her head sideways. "What's true?"
"Oh, ye gods," groaned Tracy, "this is just what the world needs… more prophecies…"
"What's true, Sn—Professor Snape?" asked Airelle again.
"Voldemort wants to get a hold of the Medicamentum Mortis."
"Medica-what?"
"Medicamentum Mortis," he reiterated impatiently. "Mors Nigra, the Black Death, the Potion of Death—they're all the same thing… monikers for the infamous Mortis Potion."
This proclamation, apparently, did not elicit the reaction he'd expected; everyone stared at him blankly. This time, even Airelle had no clue what he was speaking of. But whatever it was—anything with the word Death in it and Voldemort would not make a good combination.
The Potions Master sighed exasperatedly, rose, and began to pace the cell wall to wall as his companions' eyes followed him eagerly. Everything seemed to be forgotten—student-teacher barriers, the fact that Snape was a former Death Eater—it was just like in Hagrid's cabin, except it was life-threatening. Big difference, there.
"The legendary Mortis Potion," said Snape, automatically adopting the professor-voice, "is one of the worst feats of Dark Magic ever performed. Muggles nicknamed it the Black Death… it was the reason for the plague that wiped out a third of Europe in the Middle Ages—they blamed it on rats."
"What does it do?" asked Ron.
"The Potion, once made, has a power which becomes airborne. Any Muggle or Muggle-born who breathes it shall become contaminated and die. It is a tool for wiping out anyone not of pure wizard blood."
"My God," said Airelle. "That's what Voldemort wants."
"Rumor has it," said Snape, "that the only existing recipe for it was kept by…" There was an uncomfortable pause. At length, he said, "Salazar Slytherin."
"Slytherin? The founder of your House?" asked Tracy, even though she knew the answer already.
"The same," replied Snape wryly. "Myths say that he kept it in the Chamber of Secrets, guarded by a monster. When his heir would arrive, he would inherit the potion as a gift."
"And so he did," murmured Ron, and Airelle swallowed something hard in her throat.
"What do you mean?"
"You-Know-Who is the Heir of Slytherin," said the Gryffindor fifth-year miserably. "I know that in his day, he discovered the Chamber."
"How?"
"Harry Potter…" Ron began, ignoring the look on Snape's face, "saved my sister Ginny from Tom Riddle in the Chamber. Riddle had preserved himself in a diary and was controlling her. Harry killed the basilisk… he told me later that Riddle talked about his finding the Chamber in his last year at Hogwarts."
"That means," said Alica thoughtfully, "he found the recipe for the Mortis Potion as well!"
"But never had the chance to brew it," Tracy finished the thought.
"So now," continued Snape, "once Voldemort discovered that the books were still at Hogwarts—he thought they'd been lost—naturally, he wanted them back."
"The recipe's hidden in one of those books," said Airelle softly. "That way, Voldemort won't need to have a spy at Hogwarts, or murder Snape or Dumbledore… he'll kill off three-quarters of the world in one shot! No wonder he wants it."
"Exactly."
"But… isn't Voldemort non-pureblood himself? And what about some of his followers?"
"The brewer of the potion and anyone he chooses to protect will not be affected by it," said Snape, leaning on the wall.
"Hmm…" murmured Airelle, looking at the bars again. "One thing bothers me—why didn't Dumbledore destroy the recipe in the first place? Even if he could not tell which book it was in, why not destroy all the books and forget about it?"
"Because," said Snape, eyes glittering in the darkness against his black hair, "the recipe may only be destroyed by the person who inherits it. One can try anything, from charms to curses, but nothing will affect it unless the caster is the one for whom the recipe is intended."
"You-Know-Who," said Neville shakily.
"Precisely."
"And he," said Airelle, "is about as willing to obliterate it as I am willing to tap dance."
Tracy sighed, and Ron massaged his temples.
"Is there no other way to stop it?"
"Yes, Professor Snape," asked Airelle courteously, "you said the Black Death—the bubonic plague, they called it—was the result of the potion. How was it stopped last time?"
"The Ministry of Magic forced its caster to stop the potion's power and do a counter-curse. But only that person can do it. Otherwise…"
"So, there's only one thing to do, then," muttered Airelle through gritted teeth.
"What, Professor?" asked Neville.
"Not let him get it."
Ron stood up. "But that's suicide!"
"Then what do we do?" piped up Tracy hotly. "If You-Know-Who gets his paws on it, we're all doomed anyway!"
"For once," grumbled Snape, giving everyone in the room except Airelle a cold look, "I think you're right, Miss Patts."
"Hmph."
"And why does Noah," interrupted Airelle, much to the relief of all the students, "want me to go back with him to Hogwarts?"
"He knows you know where the room is…"
"And I bet," said Snape, "Dumbledore bewitched the cabinet so that not everyone can open it."
"You mean it's like the Mirror of Erised?" asked Ron.
Everyone stared. "Eh?"
"Ohh…never mind… but what I mean is--only a person with good intentions will be able to get the books?"
"Hmm," said Airelle, "maybe. After all, we opened the cabinet… but we were not planning on stealing anything. We didn't even know what was in there. And even you two—" (her head turned to the two Ravenclaws, who winced) "—only took the book out of curiosity."
"Noah suspects that he may need you to open it," Snape said, crossing his arms. "I suppose he wanted, as Neville, to coax you into revealing the location of the room, but then gave up."
"You're right. I remember now… during our broom practices, he would always ask me about the secret rooms at Hogwarts and what they were for, and which ones were the oldest…"
"But he still couldn't get it out of you," continued Snape, "so he finally gave up and decided to find the room himself."
"Who's betting that it was exactly the reason he was in the dungeons on Valentine's Day?"
Snape nodded. "He fabricated that story about Potter wanting to see you to get you out of school, because he knew that Potter would want to speak with you anyway. And then, he went off looking for the room, but failed because of my presence nearby. He knew it would be too dangerous for him, so he decided to just force you to tell him the location."
"And the first step was to silence Delilah."
"Exactly."
Airelle remembered the staff meeting. "Madam Pomfrey was saved by pure chance. Who would have known that Neville could have possibly been the one to—" She stopped, seeing the look on the real Neville's face.
"Are you all right?" she asked, looking him in the eyes.
"Oh, I don't feel so well… I just can't believe that… that…"
"Git?" supplied Ron, and Neville nodded numbly.
"Yes… that he'd do something, and use my appearance…"
"Well, it's not your fault," said Airelle. "We all are victims, some time or another."
"Can you believe this, though?" mused Tracy thoughtfully. "Dumbledore is away from Hogwarts right now… I bet he took every precaution so that nothing would go amiss there. But outside the school, look what happened. Oh, if only we'd stayed there today, none of this would've ever happened."
"Yes," said Alica quietly. "If only."
"But then," said Ron, looking down at the floor, "we would have never known the truth."
"Now we know the truth," replied Tracy, "and has it helped us any? We're in a cell in the middle of who-knows-where, waiting for our deaths, hanging by a thread!"
"Hmm," murmured Airelle, "perhaps not all is lost. Maybe the truth shall play a good role for us. After all, now we know what we are up against. Noah will not have the recipe, I swear it."
"Now, Airelle," said Snape carefully, "don't promise what you cannot fulfill. You cannot—"
"And what?" she asked, desperately wishing the two of them were alone, so she could speak freely. "If I give it up, Noah will get the recipe to Voldemort—and then, nothing will save any of us Muggle-borns, starting with me." Mentally, she tried in vain to transmit her worries to him: You must understand, no matter what Voldemort may promise me as a reward, either a swift death or protection from the potion, I will not succumb. I cannot. You yourself said you'd never forgive me if I joined him; so live up to your words. I'll fight hand and foot to keep Noah away from that cabinet, and we both know it.
"I am not brave," she said. "I'm just practical. One life is not worth more than millions. The Dark Lord will never see that recipe, or I never was an Auror."
There was silence from the room. Finally, Neville asked, "But Professor…what can we do?"
"Don't do anything reckless," she replied, looking pointedly at Ron and sideways at Snape, whose faces looked stony. "Let me try and get help if I can, and return for you."
"No," Snape said abruptly, moving closer and facing her. "Airelle, you cannot return here."
"You will die otherwise," she said quietly, "and you know it. Let me get help and come back."
"Get help if you can, and escape, but do not come back. You know how Voldemort's followers are. They shall not be hesitant."
"Neither will I."
"Airelle," he said, with a dangerous tone that she recognized at once, "be smart, and don't play their game. Do only what you need… but do not return. Let me take care of this. You know," and here he sounded almost desperate, "they will kill you immediately upon discovering you are the cause of their plans going awry."
"I don't care, I'm not letting you and my students rot in here."
Snape looked ready to explode, but never got the chance to.
The door opened again, and in walked—Snape?
Noah Lieton, using Polyjuice Potion, said Airelle to herself. He must've taken some of Snape's hair when we were unconscious, and slipped it into the potion. Now, no one will think anything's gone wrong; I'll be returning to Hogwarts with Snape, just like I left it with Snape. Damn. Damn it.
"Well, Ms. Vilka," he said, and the very intonation of Airelle's own friend's voice scared her, "it's time."
The bars opened, and taking one last look at her friend and students, the Illusions professor allowed herself to be blindfolded and led out of the room, Noah's wand never ceasing to dig into her back.
Forgive me, Snape, Airelle apologized mentally. This time, I will not follow your advice. I will make sure they pay for this. And oh, I'll return with a vengeance.
To Be Continued…
