Grinding away at the plot. Slash eventually

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Heart of Glass -- part 7

The glass was carefully lifted out of its mould and Snape, Hermione, and Harry, with equal care, lifted them and gently, very gently, slid their wands into the groove intended for that purpose.

They'd already achieved a major success. Too many times in the past, there'd simply been a mini-explosion once the wand-boosters had been handled. At that point, Harry, Hermione, and Snape would retreat to share a pot of mango-mint tea, which seemed to have a calming effect on the resultant hair-sparking effect.

But this time, no explosion.

Who goes first? Harry asked rhetorically. Both Snape and Harry turned to gaze at Hermione, who gulped. Her magic was weaker than Snape's and more predictable than Harry's.

Something simple, Snape cautioned. As he always did.

Hermione gulped again and pointed her wand at the logs sitting before Snape's fireplace. Wingardium leviosa! she commanded firmly, then shut her eyes and went into a full-body flinch. Harry braced himself as well. This was the second point at which things usually failed. It was usually a cascading effect as Hermione's glass shattered, causing Snape's and Harry's to shatter as well. But this time

It's working, Snape whispered. Harry just stood and stared.

The logs were floating. The andirons were floating. The fire burning in the fireplace was floating. As was just about everything in the room that wasn't actually affixed to a floor or a wall -- but the objects were trying. Harry could hear the castle groan in protest.

Snape warned softly.

Hermione cautiously opened one eye, then the other. Finite incantatum, she said, her voice barely audible.

Everything drifted down to the floor, a multitude of taps and bumps and clicks arising as the workbench, the andirons, Snape's armchair, and everything else settled back into place.

Sir, I believe you're up next, Harry said, striving for equanimity.

Hermione just walked to the armchair and sank into its depths.

Harry swallowed and looked away from Snape who still stood staring in disbelief. The man was oh, the look in his eyes. Triumph. Vindication. Hope?

I think, Snape started, then paused. I think we wait. Let the ambient magic settle a bit. Have some, er, tea He paused again and took a deep breath. Then I'll go. Then you, Harry.

Harry flushed with pleasure. Not that he was chosen to go last, a subtle compliment to the strength of his magic -- Snape had never called him by his first name.

Certainly. Um, sir.

Snape gave him a quick glance, as if checking to see whether Harry was mocking him. But Harry just smiled and dragged a nervous hand through his hair.

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Hermione sat composedly at the table, her triumph at being invited to an Order of the Phoenix meeting well-hidden, except for those who knew her. Harry caught Snape's eye and realized they were both hiding smiles. Except Snape was the first to drop eye contact and look away.

And then Sirius entered the room. He chose a seat, and sprawled lazily in it. "And how are we all today?"

After casting a quick anxious glance at Snape, Harry concentrated on quelling the odd mix of feelings that arose within him every time he now saw his godfather. Love, yes, and joy at his safety, but also a rush of irritation at the seemingly careless attitude he perpetually displayed.

But that wasn't true, Harry reminded himself, even as he reminded himself to smile at his godfather. At least, it wasn't true now. Meanwhile, Snape was handling himself increasingly well on the rare occasions when he and Sirius crossed paths. It was amusing, really.

Yes, there was sniping and snarking and occasionally hissing -- the tempers of both parties were never far from the surface. But where Snape had formerly flared up at even the sight of Sirius, he now seemed to take more pleasure in baiting him. And to see Sirius frustrated, like a dog who doesn't understand why a cat won't run -- won't even bother to spit and arch its back, but just stares calmly and waits, until, suddenly slashing, it left the dog's nose with a battle scar of four perfectly parallel claw marks.

Sirius had learned, finally, not to even attempt baiting Severus anymore. And, perhaps, that was the most effective revenge. Now a truce reigned, but today, Harry could tell, Severus was waiting. Waiting for Dumbledore to share the news of Snape's triumph so that he could rub Sirius's nose in it.

As if on cue, Dumbledore entered.

This meeting will be short. Basically, we have an advantage, one that may last only as long as we are able to keep it secret. What I need from all of you is an idea of where to find Voldemort, and how we can attack.

A low murmur arose. Dumbledore was forever disinclined to go on the offensive. The gains, he often declared, were not worth the potential costs. What he'd seen, when Snape had summoned him to see what Harry could do with the glass wand-booster, must have convinced him.

It was only unfortunate that Snape's rug wasn't large enough to cover the resultant hole in the dungeon floor.

Harry sat back and waited until the murmuring died down.

Well, I have good news on that front, Sirius said into the general silence. We were able to track Voldemort to caves in Wales. But the caves are deep. And magical

Draw him out, then? Harry put forth. I seem to be irresistible bait, as you all know.

Use you as a stalking goat, Harry? Sirius said angrily.

The boy does have a point, Snape said.

You would agree with him, Sirius replied angrily.

Whatever Potter's faults, he does have an amazing grasp of the obvious. The question is, how to arrange for a trap wherein the bait doesn't

Get eaten alive? Harry put in with a half smile.

As you say. Snape nodded in Harry's direction.

Hermione said unexpectedly.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

Voldemort seems to like attacking Quidditch matches. He's attacked at the World Cup twice, now. Can't we arrange for a Quidditch exhibition or something?

What would be the occasion? Dumbledore inquired.

Oh, the Boy-Who-Lived is graduation. Who wouldn't want to see his tryout for the professional league? With the funds to go to charity, of course.

Harry sat back with a groan, then and turned to glare at his so-called best friend.

--||--

The idea of an exhibition quickly proved impossible. Too many people would have to know, would be in on the secret. Too many people would be present. Too many people could be hurt.

In the end, it proved unnecessary. Snape, Hermione, and Harry simply created more wand boosters and handed them out to the inner circle.

Sirius was the first to bag a prize -- a wailing Wormtail was dragged before the Ministry of Magic, and, finally, Sirius was exonerated. A taste of victory only whetted Sirius's appetite for more, so he redoubled his efforts to find Voldemort.

Voldemort, at first, was only mildly unnerved at losing the services of his pet rat. But, with the Ministry's stepped-up surveillance (Fudge had no choice but to obey the will of a near-hysterical public who believed Pettigrew when he said that the Dark Lord was bigger and badder than ever), and Sirius's dogged persistence, Voldemort's boltholes were discovered. And as Voldemort was driven from pillar to post, panic began to rise among the Death Eaters. Their activities had denied for so long by the public that when the wizarding world suddenly paid attention to the problem at hand, the Death Eaters' nerves apparently broke. After a few Death Eaters were picked off, in their initial attempts to cow the populace, the rest of the rats began to flee the slowly sinking ship.

By the time Lucius Malfoy appeared voluntarily before the Ministry (again claiming Imperius as his reason for supporting Voldemort), the end was near. Voldemort attempted to flee to France, to regroup, but Arthur Weasley and a party of his trusted employees had been forewarned ahead of time. Voldemort apparated back to his caves in Wales, but Sirius was there, with Lupin and a few other werewolves. And so Voldemort apparated away one last time, and no one was quite sure where.

It became apparent the next day, when a black-cloaked figure emerged from the Forbidden Forest and attempted to casually glide over to the Quidditch pitch where Harry was practicing with the rest of the Quidditch team for their match against Ravenclaw. He wouldn't have even gotten as close as he had, had he not cast a glamour over himself. But at this point, Harry was an expert in all things Snape. The way the figure walked, held his body, turned his head -- it was the old, tired, hated and hateful Snape that walked idly Harry's way. Besides, Harry knew that Severus taught second year potions (Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw) at that hour. So his wand was at the ready even before Voldemort could raise his arm in Harry's direction.

When Voldemort did make his move, Harry's Avadra Kedavra was so powerful that the resultant hole took two weeks to fill in, and delayed the House Quidditch Cup Finals until after the end of term. Voldemort's smoking remains were barely discernible from the blackened earth around where he had once stood.

--||--

The wizarding world erupted with joy and Harry was twice the celebrity he'd ever been. As a result, he was rarely without his invisibility cloak. He could get away with wearing it during history of magic, but he more or less refused to emerge from underneath it except during class, at meals, and when playing Quidditch. The occupants of Griffindor House where rarely sure whether he was in it or not, except at night. And sometimes not even then. Padma and Lavender briefly started a campaign to have the cloak confiscated -- they were convinced he was using it to spy on them when they were in the bathroom -- but whatever Hermione threatened worked. According to Ron, they also began bathing wearing bathing suits. Harry didn't inquire how Ron came across this information.

The worst part, so far as Harry was concerned, was really not the publicity, as bad as that was. It wasn't even that all the wand boosters were confiscated, and destroyed. It was that, apart from the few people in the Order that had been granted one to begin with, no one knew they had ever existed.

Dumbledore had insisted, and Snape had agreed, that they were simply too dangerous. Too tempting. The knowledge had been found, but it needed to be lost again. If the boosters were to get into the wrong hands Dumbledore had intoned gravely.

And so the rumors of Harry's magical prowess were more exaggerated than ever. And Hermoine, and Snape, didn't get an iota of credit for their contributions to bringing about Voldemort's downfall. With that knowledge, Harry found it hard to look Snape in the eye. Instead he concentrated on the crystal, hoping that the care he lavished on it might be somehow transmitted to the man it was made to torture.

--||--

The glass, however, seemed to have shrunk all it was going to. Whichever of Snape's horrific memories and dark thoughts that Voldemort had trapped inside the crystal remained there. It continued to stay a dark, sullen thing. It was small enough now that it could be easily slipped into a pocket, and Harry used it as a worry stone, continually turning it over and over in his fingers.

Snape, despite any disappointment he might have felt over his achievements going unrecognized, and seeing almost every member of the Order of the Phoenix awarded an Order of Merlin -- except for himself -- bore up well under the distrust of those who didn't know of his sacrifices.

And so the last weeks of Harry's last year at Hogwarts drew to a close.

--||--

Auror training was a bore, until Harry found a specialty. Dark objects and books of dark magic had to be examined and catalogued and safely stored. Harry made himself into the resident expert on glass.

And as the ministry searched all of Voldemort's old hiding places, strange, twisted glass objects were revealed. There were crystal balls enchanted to reveal only nightmare visions, crystal cubes containing people's minds, or souls, and occasionally, bodies, and dark pensieves, designed to contain the darkest hours of a person's life and feed them back as dreams, over and over, driving bitterness into their souls.

Harry was the one to discover a cache of them, and among them, Draco's. It was disturbing to find himself featured so prominently in it. The day Harry refused Draco's hand in friendship, the humiliation Draco felt at being turned into the amazing bouncing ferret.

The crystal balls were the easiest to dispose of, though sometimes hard to identify. A student of Flitwick's had finally come up with a charm that identified any crystal ball that was designed to deliberately twist the future and present the worst possible outcome. Harry had snuck back to Hogwarts to use the charm on Trelawney's crystal ball, but her crystal ball. It was the woman herself who was barking mad.

Dumbledore had taken over rescuing what -- and who -- he could from the crystal cubes. Occasionally people who had been trapped inside were still alive. Rarely were they sane.

One bright spot had been the discovery that fragments of Frank and TK Longbottom's minds were found intact in one of the cubes. Their recovery, while swift, would never be quite complete, but Neville had parents capable of recognizing, and loving, their only child.

The worst were the dark pensieves. Destroying them only led to the destruction of the person whose nightmares it held. Charms released the contents too suddenly for the victim to cope. Harry, inadvertently, held the only solution, but was at a loss as to explain how he'd arrived at it. The core of the Snape-crystal still lay in his pocket.

But he'd had to tell someone, so he'd told Hermione. And Hermione took charge of finding a person who had enough affection for the victim both to help release what was trapped in the crystal's depths, and to bear the nightmares that resulted.

Hermione herself had taken initially taken charge of Draco's, but quickly realized that Draco would never forgive her for what would seem to be typical Griffindor behavior of prying into the private details of her betters.

And so she'd passed the crystal along to Snape and asked him to find someone to be its caretaker. Snape, of course, with Draco's agreement, had taken charge of the crystal himself. Harry then threw himself even deeper into his work, convinced he knew what the outcome of the situation would be. He was relieved and surprised when Draco turned up to thank Harry and Hermione both for taking care of it, and for putting it in the right hands. He was even more surprised to see Hermione blush and invite Draco for a drink, and to watch as Draco, with an assessing glance divided evenly between Harry and Hermione, agreed.

And so time passed. And more time. And Harry kept his head down, and worked hard at his obscure specialty that excited no one's attention and brought him no further glory.

His only indulgence was to pass along every experiment any wizard ever conducted with regard to the magical properties of glass along to Severus Snape. The brief thank you notes, each with just a few words of Snape's crabbed handwriting scrawled across it, sat in a neat pile in the second drawer of Harry's desk.

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Sorry, not the most uplifting ending. I'm *trying*, though.

As for all you reviewers, see the Authors Notes, which follow this installment.

Thanks again!