As for my reviewers:
Lady Lunar Phoenix: You are most welcome. I love to bring happiness even in meagre ways such as this.
White owl: I am flattered. *bows*
Lei Dumbledore: Thanks! I try to update as fast as possible. But sometimes it is hard deciding what Snape would and wouldn't do. Of course it is also loads of fun!
JiM: I am glad you like the story and how it is turning out. As for the spell checker, I know what you mean. It will be my bane! However I have none for english, as all the programs run on greek windows (yes, I am Greek! hee hee). I also do not have a beta reader or time to beta my own texts. I'll try to proofread as much as possible though.
Zardiphillian Beryllix: I am glad you liked the chapter. As for the creature, it is very, very, VERY evil. The sort of evil that makes Voldemort look like a pouty kid. Where it came from and why it is so enraged with Harry (and Snape), you will have to bear with me until the story unfolds. I can safely say, however, that it is not a creature of the world either wizards or muggles know and it certainly is not taught in DADA. As for promice and promise, I admit that that has always been my bane. The correct spelling is with an 's', but I never seem to get it imprinted. At least I remember to correct my students. *smirk* And by the way, I would -never- toss in the volcano such a capable writer as yourself. When are YOU gonna update? *handles wand with nasty glance*
JaimynsFire: prod me not, for I will go whine to Snape, and as I am a slytherin, he will be on MY side! *snickers*
So, as an official request: Beta-reader(s) needed as I have no time to comb through my texts! If you want the position, e-mail me!
Now on with the story.
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It was almost dusk when I walked brusquely to Knockturn Alley. A bit seedy as always, and dangerous to the hopelessly cheerful, but in general Knockturn Alley was feared much more than it should have been. After all, so many ingredients for very useful potions could be found here. And if you were so stupid as to go about touching things you knew nothing about, then even an hour in a muggle kitchen would be perilous.
I know the store I walk into well. A small cockroachy man by the name of Zikes is standing behind the counter. He has whiskers like the antennae of a bug that keep twitching in suspicion and mischief. Many times have I felt the urge to stomp on him with my heel, and I cannot say that I am completely free of such fantasies even now.
Upon seeing me, Zikes comes out of the counter, his tiny, twitching little hands slithering up and down his rather dirty robe's buttons. He watches me cautiously.
"I'll have what is on the list. Quickly," I tell him, shoving the parchment with the ingredients in his face. He nods wordlessly and skulks away to retrieve the items. Most are exotic and illegal, as they are primary to the brewing of many potions of the dark arts. Which is the reason I came to this place after so long.
The man stacks the little bottles and pouches on the counter, and I open and sample each one, to make sure that they are either fresh or old enough to be of any use. I hear shuffling and so I raise my eyes from the vial of hag tears. The man is licking his lips, uneasy. I still see fear in his eyes.
"What?"
I have no intention of making myself any less fearsome. Fear is good to be caused in places such as this. Zikes swallows.
"We-we-werewolf b-b-b-blood is ill-ill-ill-illegal," he manages to say.
I sneer at him.
"So are the rest I ordered. Are you trying to toy with me?" I make my voice low, subliminal and extremely threatening. Even Lucius didn't feel comfortable when I spoke like this. The man shakes his head quickly, eyes wide.
"Good."
The man still stares at me as if I have grown two heads. I scowl. He starts talking. Or producing a semblance of talk through all the stuttering.
"We d-d-d-don't ha-a-ave it, p-p-...p-p-..."
Just my morbid, ironic luck.
"Just get going and add up all these. And just write the total down-- I have no intention of spending here the night waiting for you to get it out of your mouth!"
When I get back to Hogwarts, Minerva is waiting for me.
"Where have you been, Severus?" she says in that worried tone I have started to dread.
"What has happened now? Potter is in the Chamber of Secrets and all the pipes have caved in?"
"No, no he is with Remus. It is just..."
"Quickly, Minerva..."
"He is growing weaker. He can't sit properly anymore."
I take a deep breath and walk quickly to the Gryffindor Tower, where we have set up Potter. Far be it from the Boy-Who-Lived to live anywhere where it is not crawling with garish reds and golds.
"That is normal, Minerva."
"Have you found anything?"
"Some things. I will not repeat them, so let's go where Lupin and Potter can hear us."
It was hard reading them. I dread everything that will have to be done in the next few days. I speak the password (golden snitch), and enter the Gryffindor common room. The image somewhat checks my speed, although I do not see anything I do not expect.
Lupin is sitting at the edge of the sofa closest to the fireplace, holding Harry's head. Harry is lying down on the sofa, with a somewhat laboured breathing, shutting his eyes occasionally, but having to open them again as the sleepless potion demands. He is sweaty and has a fever-- I can see plainly that the boy is burning up. He keeps reaching for Lupin's touch, either against his cheek or holding his hand.
Remus raises his eyes to me. He looks crestfallen, desperate himself, yet oddly enough hopeful. Blast you, Lupin. Do not place that much faith in me. Do not make me be responsible so much. I am not Albus. I cannot hold all your faith. It will break me.
To push all the thoughts from my mind, I walk across the room to bend over Harry. His eyes focus on me somewhat. The boy is the epitome of exhaustion and malady. I put my hand against his temple, careful not to touch his bleeding scar or mess up the bandage. He sighs with relief, because my hand is close to ice as opposed to his temple that is scorching.
"Can you hear me properly, Potter?" I ask him gently. The boy nods. As he tries to reply, his voice is slurry.
"Yes, professor... I am just so.. terribly dizzy is all."
"Save your energy. A yes or no will do," I say as I lay down the black book from my father's house and the ingredients I have purchased.
Three pairs of eyes stare at me with hope, and I cannot prolong what I have to tell them any longer.
"There is still hope, and there is a way out of your... predicament." I start hesitantly, and wait for reactions. Minerva seems relieved. Potter and Lupin are focused, yet guarded.
It is obvious who has had a vaster experience with the Darkness.
"The Anima Vaccus is not exactly a spell. It is an enchantment, which implies that for it to work, there has to be a sublimation of the target's willpower."
Harry swallows, staring at me more intensely. I nod at his unspoken question.
"It is a battle of wits primarily, Harry Potter. One that only you can fight, when you come down to that."
Harry shuts his eyes tiredly. I feel angry at the fates. The boy has already fought for so long, so much. What more does he have to prove to justify this situation? Yet I go on.
"The fight you will give, Harry, will take place in the plane of spirits. You will not fight with your body but with your consciousness against another bodiless entity that wants your psyche eradicated."
"My psyche?" Harry asks weakly.
"It is what we call a wizard's essence, the sum of the person's soul, awareness and memories. In short, all you are."
There is an uneasy pause.
"So I am on my own?" he says with bitterness. I know exactly how that tastes.
"Not exactly. Contrary to the entity after you, you -have- a body, and that gives you an extra leverage. Your body is matter, which in some ways is stored up energy. Energy that your adversary does not have."
"So how, exactly, do I have the upper hand in this?" he asks with a rather ironic tone.
I do not like to be reminded of myself.
"If you do not keep interrupting me, I shall -tell- you, Potter."
"You will use anchoring potions, Severus?" Lupin suggests. Close enough.
"In a way. I will make a potion that will link Potter to two other wizards. That way he will be able to have a foothold of some sort, and perhaps allies. Perhaps Potter will need to use knowledge he doesn't have, since we do not know what that entity actually is."
"How will we go about this?" Minerva asks.
"I will make the potion first. It requires 2 to 3 days to brew. Then after giving it to Potter, we will let him sleep. Then, it will be up to him."
I turn to the boy lying on the sofa.
"Do you agree to this, Potter?"
"Is there any other way?"
"You can always go on drinking the sleeplessness potion and exhaust yourself into a coma, whereupon you will have little to no energy to fight the entity with, and it will eat you up for hors d'oeuvres."
"I agree."
I am grateful for the dangerous gleam in Potter's eyes. I prefer him combative.
I nod and get up. I instruct Minerva to make Potter eat properly and help him rest as much as possible. As soon as Harry has his eyes closed, I nod for Lupin to meet me outside the Tower. As soon as we are outside and I have cast an isolation spell, he sighs.
"Your solution is not foolproof."
"Nothing about the dark arts is foolproof. You should know that by now."
"Harry is too weak."
"He was under three cruciatus when he bent Voldemort's wand to his will. But he loves the attention." I sneer, then stop as my eyes meet the werewolf's. My skin crawls even with the idea that this man can turn into something wild and terrible.
"What can I do for you?" he asks sombrely, yet calmly. I feel the need to fidget.
"I need a very... specific ingredient, Lupin."
There was a reason I always thought Lupin to have been the brains between every single Marauder prank. Except the really crude ones Black tried to pull. His eyes lighten as he understands what it is I am talking about.
"Is it whiskers or blood you need of me?"
"I need blood. About 3 standard vials."
He nods.
"Let's go do it then."
"Not as you are now." I shut my eyes as he pales. He understands. Thank goodness, because I would not have asked graciously otherwise.
"But I have drunk my wolfsbane," he says in a hushed voice.
"I know. But we can cancel it out. The full moon is tomorrow."
Lupin nods defeatedly.
"All right."
He turns to go back in the common room, but I hold him by the hand.
"Remus."
His eyebrows raise at my usage of his given name. I swallow. I am certain the fear shows in my eyes. He smiles thinly.
"You wouldn't have instructions on how to bloodlet a werewolf while he is a wolf, would you?" I mutter. I swear there is a twinkle in those gray eyes that doesn't quite settle me. Perhaps he is amused that I am scared more than he is.
"Only one: tie him up before he shifts," he says simply and walks inside.
I still don't feel assured. If Black were alive, he would have a field day.
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And this is where this scene ends... please, do review. I do seem to use your reviews for fuel, as I found out from those on chapter 7. The more the reviews, the more the urge to write. It helps, and it my only reward, really. So go on. Click on that button. You know you want to.