Disclaimer: Still not mine… Hurmph.
Author's Note: Okay, I just *had* to brag about this. Lothey was kind enough to show me *this* picture: http://www.geocities.com/gredandfeorgeareuptonogood/HarryandSirius.jpg
So I just had to share it with you because I think it's amazing. Poor Harry. ahem Oh, I'm the author of this one, aren't I? This is Angst Central, signing off. Oh, and thanks for all your awesome (and long) reviews. I tried to respond in kind. As always, R&R (and no, that's not Rest and Relaxation g).
Chapter 26
Ron sighed as he pushed the pile of parchments away from the table and leaned back. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned, gratified as his back cracked noisily. George shook his head with a small grin, and Hermione didn't even look up.
"I wish I could do that," George said enviously, and winced as he tried to sit up a little straighter at the table. Fred glanced over at him quietly. George smiled at his twin reassuringly, and let himself tip to the side, gently bumping Fred in the shoulder before straightening again.
The injuries in the raid that George received were nearly all healed now. Only the tenderness of the muscles that had strained from his fall downstairs remained. The bones in his leg healed nicely, but he still limped slightly as the twisted tendons took longer to mend. Ron watched his twin brothers discretely, amazed at how Fred had responded to the attack.
As Beaters, Fred and George both received countless injuries all the time. Never had Ron seen Fred behave like this with George, though, even counting the time George took a Bludger to the head... Their companionship and camaraderie had always been an understood thing. They were twins, after all. Communication seemed to pass between them that was never verbalized or even shown through body language. It's what made them such devastating Beaters.
But since the attack, Ron noticed that Fred seemed to watch his brother as if he were made of glass. He kept his wand with him at all times (although Ron and Hermione both had done this since third year), and he kept close watch on George. Every flinch, every sigh was now closely monitored. George seemed to notice right away Fred's distress, and had been trying to reassure him ever since. Ron watched his two brothers as they shared a look between them. George smiled at Fred and bumped his shoulder again.
Even their mother had begun to watch Fred with concern. Fred's normally loud, vivacious personality was muted. He quietly kept close eye on George everywhere he went, and refused to leave his side even for a moment. Jokes, the be-all end-all of the twins' existence for many years (besides Quidditch, of course) now took a back seat.
"I can't believe how much there is to sort through," Ron said and took the handfuls of parchment he'd gone through which he then dropped untidily on the stack next to his chair. Ginny watched him and pursed lips.
"Percy is going to go ape when he sees the pile you're making. I think he had all those in order," she observed. She didn't look distraught at her announcement. Ron raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not worried about his little filing system. We're running out of time," Ron replied and knew his tone betrayed his anger. Hermione glanced up, pushing her hair off her face to get a better look at both Ron and Ginny. The side of her lip curled up for a moment, then she looked back down, absentmindedly twisting her hair into a knot which she tied on top of her head. The parchment she'd been holding began to roll up and she sighed tiredly as she reflattened it out and tried to find her place again. Curls stuck out everywhere.
"When do Mr. Weasley and Percy get back?" Hermione asked. Ginny glanced at her and bit the side of her lip distractedly, shaking her head. She looked tired and pale, her freckles showing up starkly against her skin. The purple shadows under her eyes showed her fatigue all too well.
"I'm not sure. I hope they don't intend to stay at work the whole day. Bill's coming later this afternoon, though, and Charlie should be here by this evening," Ginny replied.
It was four days since the attack, and no one else was talking about the ramifications of the rest of the family coming home to stay… indefinitely. Ron wondered if they realized what it meant. His dad kept saying that he'd called his eldest sons back to 'help sort through the paperwork', but Ron knew that wasn't it. Arthur Weasley had called his sons back in case the Ministry attacked again. And with Percy smuggling more paperwork out daily, that chance increased exponentially.
"What the bloody hell is an ERM, and why do they pop up all the time?" Ron asked in frustration as he unrolled a new parchment in front of him. Fred looked up and frowned.
"You know, there are a ton of those forms, too, aren't there? No names or anything, just locations, and it's got the Auror Division insignia on the letterhead. What do you think it is?" Fred asked curiously. George glanced over at Fred's parchment and nodded. Apparently, he'd been wondering the same thing.
"Ronald Weasley, don't make me come in there and wash your mouth out. It's Exogenous Retention Modifiers," Molly Weasley said from the kitchen door where she'd evidently overheard them. She glared at Ron, then seemed to notice the blank stares of the rest of the table. "Memory Charms," she prompted them as if it were the most common knowledge in the world. Ron suppressed a snicker at the shocked expression on Hermione's face. He was well aware that his mother was full of surprises. "It's when they have to Obliviate people," she elaborated, and what his mother said truly began to sink in. Ron looked at her in surprise as well, but didn't dare to say anything. He was lucky he'd gotten off with a warning.
"We're not going to track anything with no names, though…" Hermione said, discouraged, after Ron's mother turned and walked back into the kitchen. She plopped her chin on her hands and frowned.
"We've still got Harry's dates," Ron replied. "Use that first. I know the Memory Charm is cast all the time with Muggles, but… wouldn't they have had to use it on neighbors as well if the Dark Mark appears? Otherwise You Know Who's attacks would already be in the news."
"But there's no addresses," George said.
"No… but there are town names," Hermione said, pleased. "Find a concentration and check out the town."
"No… look at it the other way. We already have the names of the missing from the Daily Prophet. Find out where they live and correlate the Memory Charms to that," Ron said, thrilled. That makes sense.
"Then we should have looked up their addresses in the first place," Hermione said, clearly annoyed with herself. Ron shook his head.
"No, I'll bet they wiped out all traces of Dark Magic from the homes. Remember, we're looking for evidence. We don't have the magic, but an abnormal amount of Memory Charms in the vicinity is a place to start," Ron said, his heart beating faster. He was beginning to feel better about the search.
"We're looking for what they've done with the bodies," Hermione reminded everyone grimly. "So we need to look for innocent sounding services that might be used for dark purposes."
"Well, I've got a list of weird sounding businesses already. We'll just keep adding to it as we look and ask either Dad or Percy what each of them are when they get home," Ginny said as she looked at everyone.
Fred and George nodded as they turned back to their respective parchment piles. Hermione and Ron looked at each other for a moment before he, too, grabbed some more scrolls from the tabletop. This isn't what we *want* to be doing to help Harry, but it's all we can do. Please let it be enough. Ron knew Hermione shared his thoughts. We're pretty useless right now otherwise.
************************************************************
It took a while to convince Albus to have Pomfrey leave me in peace. I'm not looking forward to initiating the bond with the boy as it is. To try to do so in the sterile, antiseptic Hospital Wing makes me shudder.
As soon as I returned from Azkaban I took a long, hot shower. No matter how hard I scrub, I swear I still see the grime underneath my fingernails from when I was there. It's strange. I would do anything Albus asked of me… but this is one of the hardest things I've ever had to face. The hardest.
Potter wasn't told all aspects of the spell that was performed. I wonder if he would have if he'd known. Harboring of Souls. Ironic name for the spell. I'm shocked I still have one. It's supposed to be a sharing of consciousness, where the stronger soul pulls as much of the other's consciousness into his own body as he can. Any port in a storm.
What Potter doesn't realize is that, although muted, the Dementors will affect me as well. I'm not sure I can do this. *This* is my current concern. I'll have to shield the boy from my memories while still focusing enough thought and energy on him to allow him a sanctuary of sort to realize his Animagus abilities… *if* he can become an Animagus. I sigh as I look over at the bed that waits for me to begin. A problem shared is a problem halved. Damn Albus and his disgustingly cheerful, hopeful eyes anyway. Why on earth am *I* supposed to be Potter's greatest hope? It's too absurd for words. I swear I hear James' snicker in the shadows. Bastard.
The nebulous pain of Potter's emotions has been with me now for nearly a day. He's not *in* my mind, but his presence echoes distantly, promising nothing but despair. I feel it in the air. I taste it on my tongue. It's acrid and bitter, like a foul potion for foul deeds. It's the experience of loss and loneliness so complete that Potter cannot even interact with the outside world while the Dementors are nearby. The place he's in… Okay, come back, Severus. Thoughts like this are why I've procrastinated half an hour past when I said I'd arrive to help Potter. It's not like he'll notice. I'm not a selfish man by nature. Ignorant, somewhat, and naive… once. No longer. But I pay for my follies daily. As if teaching isn't punishment enough.
Sighing, I cross to the bed and throw myself on it before I can change my mind. Glancing at the nightstand beside me, I realize Albus has left a large chunk of chocolate for me. It still amazes me that he cares. Strays -R- Albus. For all that I've scoffed at the mercy of others… I'll be eternally grateful for his. Which is *why* I'm going to do this…
Closing my eyes, I let my senses drift to the vortex just outside my consciousness. Potter is there. Follow the bond and visualize it solidifying, becoming an anchor from your consciousness to his. Annoying instructions. I would expect such nonsense from Trelawney. But I do as I'm told and realize that I can no longer feel my body. Instead I can feel voices… Voices I know… Laughter…. *His* Laughter…. Back when he was strong and charismatic and cruel and beautiful… Back before I realized my lapse of judgement and that knowledge is not necessarily always power.
Desperately I struggle to shut the sounds off and close my eyes… Do I even *have* eyes here? I refuse to see my past. I know what I've done, this is not what I'm here for. I dare not move forward until this is silenced. How much has Potter already seen within my mind as I try to open the bond? His presence feels closer, somehow, and I fear what he may have seen… If he's even aware of what I'm experiencing. I force the sounds of my own past below the surface, below my consciousness. The laughter begins to fade. It now bubbles away in the back of my mind, like a potion set to simmer, just as Potter did when I had not tried to activate the bond yet. Please let him not see my past…
Eventually, my mind stills. My shrieks of rage at my own arrogance are silenced. It's more of a growl now anyway. I truly stand on the precipice of his pain. Am I really standing? Or is this more Trelawney's astral projection nonsense? It's the salty air that brings my reality home. Merlin, I'm back in his cell. I'm shivering, bitterly cold, yet I cannot move. My body hurts in a way that is nearly overwhelming…. Aftereffects of battling the Veritaserum. You never stood a chance, Potter… I feel like my limbs wouldn't move properly, even if I had the energy to try, and my head feels like it's about to explode, my forehead being pierced by an ice pick. Is this what your scar feels like, Potter? You underplayed it. Ah well. It's time to say Hello.
**Potter** I call into the chaos. My voice sounds odd and even echoes back at me. Silence. **Potter** I call again. Words that I did not say, but are in my voice, call to me. I recognize them now… I have said them to him. I'm hearing his memories... My insults over his potion making. My remarks about his parents, about his celebrity, his friends. The things I mocked and ridiculed him with… which in truth consoled me as I taught him potions… As I faced my guilt daily. I *hated* him, I see that now. I thought I'd hidden it deep enough. I cloaked it in excuses to deflect suspicions from Death Eater children as to where my true loyalties lay. Be too kind and they'll know you're a traitor. I know the truth… and so does he. It's a bitter pill to swallow. I hated him for what he forced me to face.
**Potter** I call once more. Perhaps I need to work harder, give more to the tentative bond… Ack… I feel towards him... It's like the gentle tugs one would use to correct a kite and prevent it from crashing. If I just followed it properly, it would lead me straight to Potter. I put energy towards the connection, and nearly falter for a moment. My own demons come back, before I'm able to suppress them again. Stay quiet, you. I feel as if I'm wading into icy waters, waiting for the numbness to allow me to continue. I'm not in him, yet. I'm skirting the edges of his life. I'm only seeing the part *I* played in it. My own words still whisper around me, overlapping, sometimes indiscernible, taunting me… At least I'm memorable… Careless words I barely remember saying.
It's the shock and horror of my desperate fury to get Black the Dementor's Kiss that pulls me forward. Merlin, boy… I can see from your memories you barely knew him an hour. Okay. I'm disgusted. **Potter** I say, and I know my annoyance is evident.
**Professor?** a weak voice replies. It's him. Ah. All I have to do to reach him is traumatize him. That I can do.
**Focus on my voice,** I instruct. I feel a gentle pull against my chest and can begin to sense him in this mess which is his mind… I will never admit this experience to Sybill. Never. I try to help Potter draw nearer as I realize that to be closer to me takes him further from them… the Dementors. **Can you follow my voice?** I ask. Can I take him back to my body the way I'm in his? Are we sharing his body? Why aren't complicated spells ever properly explained?
**I… I'm trying,** he whispers. He sounds so tired, so flat. Why does he try still? I sense his feeling of hopelessness… Oh. He's doing it because he knows my life is now tied to him. Lovely.
I feel a tingling against my chest and realize I can reach out and grab him… Is this really him in front of me? I can see him now. He's floating before me, his robes dancing to unseen currents. His glasses are askew… Are they that way in the cell as well? He's mostly gray, like a ghost, except for his eyes… Even behind his glasses they're the brightest thing about him. I think I'm going to have nightmares about those eyes. I hold out my hand to him. He seems to focus beyond me.
**Potter,** I reprimand sharply as he begins to fade. I'm terrified to lose him now that I'm here. I don't know if I'd be able to find him again. His outline sharpens. **Take my hand,** I say. What on earth am I going to do once I have it? His eyes turn slowly to focus on my face again. He reaches out, his fingers curling against mine. His hand is so small. He's fifteen, I have to remind myself, because every instinct I have is to treat him like a child… yet I know all too well he is not. When his hand is completely in mine, I feel… energy sparking around me. Is this the bond? I tentatively try to manipulate it. It moves to my will. What is this? Our connection? I cringe at all the touchy feely words I'm using in my head to describe this. **You're never to tell Trelawney of this,** I say hastily.
**There's no danger of that,** Potter replies, and it startles me. I think his reply was laced with a tinge of irony.
As I move the energy around us, I feel a tug against my chest. So it is the bond, then. I try to add energy to it. I have no idea how much time it has taken to get me here, but my own stamina is drawing to a close. I won't be able to stay much longer.
**Potter, I must have your permission. In several hours time the Dementors will leave and your food will arrive…** I say, preparing to explain why he should allow me complete access to his body. He gave it verbally when I was there, but I've prepared ample arguments for what I know must appall him as much as it appalls me.
**Given,** he says. I'm startled by his sudden reply. It definitely takes the wind out of my argument, doesn't it? I pause to try to glean from the bond if I can do it… Walk around in Potter's skin. I don't feel any different.
**I think it's more than words,** I say dryly. He's fading again. I can feel the energy disperse between us. That's why he replied so quickly. He's fading, and he knows I am, too. **Try harder. Visualize it,** I instruct. I watch his transparent face in front of me and feel his will shape our bond as well. It sings over my skin and tugs at my breast bone, reverberating like a deep bass would. It feels good, I realize, and nearly yelp. It's… comforting. He must feel my startled response, for I sense him pulling away. Damnit, Severus. You're better at hiding things than this. **Potter, what are you doing?** I call out, watching him fade. He pauses and looks at me.
**How can we sever the link?** he asks, his voice firm. I freeze. I know what that means and automatically begin to shake my head. **You want this even less than I. Go away, Professor,** he says, and I'm pushed into darkness again. He's trying to force me away. **Dumbledore says we can sever the link. Do so.** His voice is calm and accepting. I feel rage at my own squidginess. Discipline. Accomplishment. Success. Dignity. These are what I've known all my life. Comfort is as alien to me as love. I'm sarcasm and wit, not hugs and kisses, I rail to the void. But I know the truth. I blew it. I had him and I blew it. He reached out to me, opened up to me, and I… I rejected him. Where's a dog to kick when I need one? Oh, wait. Did that.
I'm drifting now, back to my own body. His aches begin to fade except for the pain in my forehead… In his forehead. Abruptly, the pain draws me back whether I like it or not. It's searing. I reach up to press my hands to my forehead, hissing, but my hands fly through. I'm as transparent as Potter now. What is this pain? My forearm begins to tingle, and I know suddenly all too well what is happening. Even in Azkaban, Potter still sees what Voldemort does.
I begin to float back towards where I suspect Potter is, moving faster and faster. Darkness brightens to night, and the faint flicker of lights tell me I'm looking down over the countryside. Great Merlin. I know where *this* is. The mindless screams within Potter's mind oddly begins to silence. So are the dreams enough to hold Dementors at bay, then? I'm floating over a darkened countryside, pulled towards… *him*. I lower until I'm passing through the top of a roof to land beside Potter. He stands silently, looking at something intently, not glancing at me as I join him. I know this scene. I've seen it played out far too often.
Death Eaters in a room. Frightened people running through the house, chased by laughing monsters in the shape of men, until they're corralled into the living room. *This* is their sport. They're playing, like cats with a mouse. There will be no survivors. There will be no escapes. Disgusted, I look towards Harry. He continues to look around intently, and even now begins to move about the house quickly. It's odd, trying to follow him. It's like trying to run in water. Soon, he's back in the room where *they* are.
"What are you doing?" I ask, forcing myself to ignore the pleas and fearful questions. I keep my eyes trained on the boy. I know each of the Death Eaters all too well. Potter steps forward to where the man sits on the floor, his face terrified. Harry kneels beside him.
"Can you hear me?" he asks softly, watching closely for a response. There is none, but it doesn't look like Potter's surprised. He then turns to the woman. I realize they look oddly familiar to me… Could they be parents of someone at Hogwarts? I realize in horror. "Can you hear me?" Potter asks of the woman as well. She's trying hard not to cry, but her breathing comes out in gasps of a sob anyway, like short hiccups of sound. "Do you know them?" he abruptly asks of me as he wearily stands again. Fifteen.
"Who?" I ask, surprised he's talking to me. "The couple? No. But they look familiar," I respond. Now that I'm in his dream, it seems like we have a more superficial means of communication again. I can no longer hear his thoughts. Perhaps that's good.
"How about the Death Eaters?" he asks me. No nonsense. I nod. He looks pleased for a moment, then begins leaning over any parchments he sees in the room.
"What are you doing now?" I ask. I feel oddly like an intruder here, like this is *his* torment I'm interrupting. It seems as if he has a routine for when the dreams start.
"I'm trying to see if I can find out their names and address," he replies. His voice is as weak as ever, yet his movements are sure and fast. "Arvel and Deirdre Barnes. Do you know them?" he asks me. I realize I'm much more comfortable when he's looking away, when those eyes are not on me. His movements are fast and jerky. It's like he's trying to do as much as quickly as possible.
"I don't. I may have seen them before, though. It could even have been Diagon Alley for all I know," I reply. He pauses for a moment, and evidently reads the questions in my expression, for he continues.
"I look for the exits… just in case someone does see me… If I can try to help them escape by at least letting them know if there are others standing guard or not… I've only succeeded once, but…" here he shrugs. Even he seems to know it's fruitless, but still makes the effort. "I try to find out who the victims are," he says, and I realize how clinical it sounds. *Of course* he knows they won't live either. "It's nice to have you here. You know all of the Death Eaters. I'm only familiar with about ten or so. The rest I've just memorized by voice and build," he continues to explain.
Facts for his journal. He's trying to be as specific as possible for Dumbledore. I'm stunned. Even in the face of all *this*, he still tries. It's hopeless. Even he knows that. Yet look at him… And I do. I've never doubted his courage… In fact, I've wondered how much *was* courage and how much was just plain stupidity, but this… This is about strength.
I've missed much of the dialogue between Barnes and the Death Eaters, but it's no mystery. The curses have begun, and Potter stands watching, his eyes flitting from figure to figure. The screams fill my mind, and I feel filthy. He *knows* I was a Death Eater, too. Does he think I participated in this? Potter's face is still. His eyes look so old as Arvel Barnes begs for his wife's life.
"Why do you watch this?" I ask him.
"I look for evidence," he replies, but I know that's not true. The Ministry will cover up any evidence left behind. He looks at me for a moment, and sees I don't believe him. "Because someone should," he says softly.
"Please, what have we done? Whatever we did, we didn't mean it," Arvel Barnes says earnestly. I believe him. "If we've upset you… take it out on me. Let my wife leave. We've done nothing to harm you…" he pleads. He's dressed like a Muggle. He looks kind. He's just a bit round, with rosy cheeks from too many pints and deep laugh lines around his eyes. He's wearing a sweater that fits him oddly… I think it was made for him. His wife probably made it.
"You know what happens now. Come outside with me," I suddenly plead. The Death Eaters have had their fun. It's nearly time for the main event. I don't want to see this, and I don't want Potter to see this either. Not while I'm beside him. If he's feeling particularly altruistic when I'm *not* around… fine.
"I can't," he replies.
"What do you mean?" I ask, puzzled.
"He's coming. I'm bound," he replies. "Can't you feel it?" I do. I feel it in the air. It's what I imagine a muggle would feel if they ever faced a Christian demon. "My scar's already starting to burn. Try to leave now. Walk out the door," he instructs. Torturous Dreams 101.
I turn and step away, and it's as if a spring attached to my robes is being pulled further and further taut. The further I step away from the living room, the more I'm dragged back. Merlin. He has no choice.
"Then close your eyes. Plug your ears. Wake up," I say in mounting horror as I watch the Death Eaters raise their wands. It's time for the screams.
"What is there to touch? Until *he* has come and gone, I'm trapped here," Potter says. I know who he's referring to. Voldemort. He's coming.
"Crucio," Avery says, his lips curling into a lazy smile. The screams fill the room and I feel my own despair rising like bile. I *hate* this. I was seduced to this life, not through the promise of cruelty to man, but the promise of forbidden knowledge. It was a tantalizing fruit, and I'd already committed myself by the time I learned what Lucius' favorite sport really was.
"Then talk to me. Tell me what you do in these dreams. You've saved lives. Be specific. Look at me, Potter," I say, trying to calm my rising voice, trying to distract him. He turns and I see his expression. He looks so old… I don't know why it means so much to me to keep him from witnessing this, but it does. Does my own sense of shame play a part in this? Either way, I realize I've lost my composure completely. Completely unacceptable.
"There's nothing to do now. I've already done what I can. The only interactions I've had are with people Voldemort was torturing himself. And that was only a few times, right before death. Them," Potter says and points to the people writhing in agony, "I cannot help. I've screamed and cried and tried magic… I've tried to hurt the Death Eaters, and myself. I've tried to run away. I've tried to slip inside the victims and tell them where to run. They cannot hear me," Potter says, his voice intense with frustration and rage. Oddly, I'm pleased. It's the most animation I've seen in him since I initiated the bond. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them he's stepped forward. My blood runs cold. What are you doing? Have you gone mad?! He kneels before the old man once again… Barnes doesn't have long now. His wife is sobbing beside him. I suspect she is no longer sane.
"It's almost over. I promise. I'm so sorry. It's almost over. I'm so sorry," he whispers as he kneels next to the doomed couple, then he steps away again. Tears slide down his face unnoticed. The reality of his guilt hits me hard. *This* is *his* blood debt. He feels responsible, for it was his blood who raised Voldemort. He feels he *owes* it to them to watch, because he caused it. I feel sick. I've always known he felt guilty, but the reality of it never quite set in. Potter's face is oddly slack. I feel tears on my face. Merlin, I'm crying myself. My tears are for the lost little boy with the courage of a Gryffindor who's too naïve to know when he's beat.
"It amazes me how you all seem to *not* know what you've done," a voice says from the doorway and pain sears through my brain. Potter falls on the floor in front of me, and I myself am brought to my knees. *Voldemort*. Potter looks over at me, his face contorted in pain. My arm begins to tingle and itch painfully. Is it the proximity, or would I feel this in the Dark Mark at Hogwarts? I pray to whatever gods may be listening that he doesn't sense me. My Dark Mark radiates evil like a beacon when I'm around Voldemort, and I fear it may do the same here. I realize the scene before me is beginning to fade. I look to Potter in surprise. He's still in pain and clutching his forehead, but a sudden hard grin takes hold.
"You're leaving! Tell them who they are," he says determinedly "Do you know where you are?" he asks. I nod. The color in the room is beginning to fade to gray, and Potter is becoming nearly white. "You're at Hogwarts, right?" he asks. I nod again. He reminds me oddly of a mini-general taking command. "Tell Dumbledore. Have him send people over before the Ministry covers it up," he instructs. Good plan. Wait.
"I won't leave," I say firmly. His eyes go round with surprise.
"Are you mad? Get out of here," he says. I ignore the tone. For now.
"Not until you give me permission. Mean it, Potter. Not until you give me access to you while you're unconscious," I say. He nearly rolls his eyes in frustration.
"There. You have it. Now would you leave?!" he asks, annoyed. I'm pleased by that. What does that say about me? As I fade, I feel his thoughts again, although I no longer can see him. I'm traveling back to Hogwarts, but I can feel that a barrier is gone. Next time it will be easier to find Potter. And I believe I *will* be able to make sure he eats. I'm pleased, and the grim hope I know Potter now feels that at least some evidence will be found before it's covered up gives me heart. Heart? Blech.
The twinges in my arm sears into a blinding pain for a moment, then ceases. I see red, then white spots as I try to open my eyes. My body jerks wildly as my limbs spasm in my bed. I'm in my bed! I gasp for breath even as hands hold me down.
"Easy, Severus. Easy. Take deep breaths," Albus' gentle voice tries to calm my furiously beating heart. The sea air has been replaced by the moist chill of my precious dungeons. I'm home.
"Greenocke," I gasp out. That's the town I'd seen. "Arvel and Deirdre Barnes. Voldemort is there now. He's nearly done, but if you send people now, before the Ministry comes…" I struggle to say. I fully intend to claw the hell out of my itching Dark Mark tonight. I feel in the mood for a little pain. I just hope some can be inflicted on the Ministry as well. "Get pictures, too. Better yet, a reporter."
"So you found him?" Albus asks gently yet firmly, and I realize he's cradling me as he did Potter. My jaw feels like it's coming unhinged in a desperate struggle to catch my breath. Surely I haven't been holding my breath all this time? "Shhhh, Severus. Deep breaths. Did you witness his nightmare?" he asks, although he already knows the answer. I nod. Would you get moving!? I think in frustration. He holds me closer for a second and I feel a slab of chocolate pressed to my lips. I bite into it and find myself drifting. "I had to make sure you were okay first. Now I leave you in Pomfrey's capable hands. I know where Arvel lives," he says sadly, and I hear a rustle of robes as I'm placed flat on the bed again.
I'm falling into nothingness. I listen as Pomfrey whispers a warming charm over my blankets and tucks me in like a child. I keep my eyes closed. I've no energy left. I marvel at the silence around me and let it swallow me whole. So *this* is success. I'd hate to see what failure is. I wish I could knock on wood. I don't like tempting fate.
TBC…..
Colleen: Thanks! I was rather pleased with that one myself. Hope the bond plays well.
x-woman: Hmmm. Let me think on that. Not sure.
Nicky: Thanks a million, as always. Your patience and grammatical skills astound me. 8-) I love Snape. Is that wrong? g I wondered long and hard about how Pettigrew was in the Marauders. They were an extraordinary bunch. It wouldn't be just anyone who'd be a part of them. What would it take for him to betray something as special as that? After all, to become an unregistered Animagus, he was risking a great deal as well. Not all of it would be just because everyone else did it.
Rosethorn8706: hehehe. It means a lot that my story evokes strong emotions. Trust me, that's a very good compliment. Praise me with great praise. giggles I know where you got that phrase from. Poor Frodo…Thanks. Hmmm. Hadn't analyzed it that much. I based it off a method I'd heard used to force people to doing things they were absolutely morally opposed to doing. How do you make someone cooperate when you don't have a family or friends to threaten? Drugs. Get them so addicted to a drug that they'd sell their soul in a heartbeat for it… It happens all the time by accident. Some say it's also done on purpose… like with women forced into prostitution and horrible things like that. It was an appalling thought, so… There you are. Addiction is addiction. Bwah hah hah hah. You'll see…
AngieC: It did take me a while to get rolling. Glad you stayed with it.
AllAboutMe: You know, that stick can get painful at times… g
Tempest Princess: That song broke my heart as well. 8-( December!
Sherylyn: Yeah, I miss all my favorite NC-17 stuff. It just isn't the same. sniffs
CherryStain: Of course. See, Snape plays a pretty big part now, doesn't he? 8-)
Vmr: Thanks!
Cas: Hah. Fooled you! Lord no, this isn't a children's story. No offense taken. I agree.
Vitamin_C2002: Good. Here you go.
Neutral: Well, I just saw the other day you had my story on your favorites basks happily. I cannot tell you how completely thrilled I am to find that out. I was strutting like a peacock (for about a minute, but there you are. Can't have the neighbors see). I love all the characters in HP, so it's been a joy to write them. Heck, I had no idea how much I liked Percy even. I guess it's because he had so much room for growth. Yeah, it's *all* about the angst. Umm, I know *you* know that G. Grins blissfully at kind praise from amazing author. Oddly enough, Harry's development is the hardest for me. He's so wise and sad already… but I have plans. Really. Sirius… boy, do I love Sirius. Me too. He's the most tragic of the bunch. So many years wasted in perpetual pain. Even Remus gets more breaks than Sirius did. Yeah, I've had to formalize an outline, which made it intimidating. But I have a plan now, so… Thank you so much for your kind words. Your review means a great deal to me. I look forward to your posts as well. Amazing stuff you've got going. Keep up the terrific work. waves happily
Amy: Thanks. Although it took me forever to figure out how to post with italics. g
Lei Dumbledore: Thanks! 8-)
Videl86: That's a terrific compliment to give an author.
Ratgirl: Thanks. It was so obvious that I almost missed it. Nah, I don't see it as awkward. After all, he's already provided Harry with the invisibility cloak and more leniency than practically any other kid at Hogwarts. He leaves the discipline to Minerva and Severus. blushes at *that* comment Boy, do I wish. Very true. Harry's problems are bigger than Azkaban. I'm not gonna tell…
Celebony: blushes happily I think I just spend *way* too much time thinking about Harry Potter. That's not wrong… is it? 8-) Hmmm. We'll see. Lots of people anxious about what Harry will turn out to be… *if* he turns out to be anything. There are no guarantees. I'm glad you have faith. I hope I don't disappoint.
Mrs. Moony: Okay! g
Anoni: Hehehe. I liked that one, too. Me neither. It'll definitely be a milestone for me!
Sabrina Kendall: Yikes. One sitting. Wow. Thanks! Yep, he'll be addressed more as well. Hmm. I understand your criticism. It's a legitimate point, but for the moment, Harry doesn't have much to distract him. I do promise there will be more of *his* development coming. After all, he's got Snape keeping him company now. g You're most welcome.
Hana-chan: Wow. I'll bet it does. 8-)
Lothey: Okay. I'm a sponge. I just soak these compliments up. I'm really pleased you think so. I've worked hard to try to keep it unique. Some will be like others… it's unavoidable when you're working in someone else's universe. You have a fixed set of rules. But I've tried to keep it fresh. I still find it funny that I learned more of Snape from fanfiction than I ever did from the books. g. Pettigrew gave me pause. I had to think about him. That's one thing I absolutely have to give JKR her due: None of her characters are one dimensional. They all have much more to them than is evident: Neville and his parents; Snape being a spy; Remus and Sirius; heck, even Lucius is evil beyond belief and yet still a sinister father figure for Draco. Well, if she did, it would be the highest compliment imaginable. Alas, she's already got her story plotted. If there are similarities… she beat me to them. Fair enough. You'll have to let me know if you get that beer or not.
Mnemosyne: hehehe
Draconic Ragnorock: Thanks. Yep, he bugged me. Glad I found a way to explain it to myself at least!
Ditto2001: Okay.
Moonlight Yellow: Hi! hehehehe. Yep. Me too. Hope he still plays well. It's hard delving into a more introspective side when it comes to Harry. I thought so too, but it worked. There's something very childlike about Dumbledore. Nope. Different boat. Me too. It's so sad, because so much of Harry's childhood is already lost. That's a big part of my sense of his tragedy. So much pain and petty cruelty has already been inflicted. What is it they say: It takes 20 positive things to undo one negative? Poor Harry. True. But how long would he have remained in the cupboard? He may not be happy, but he's found a place where they welcome him, where there *are* people who love him, and where he's somebody special. It helps to counterbalance all those times he was called a nobody. Thanks. I felt Harry would be overwhelmed emotionally, so he'd be flat when he interacted with Dumbledore. It's like how a person feels after a tremendous emotional outburst. Tired, kind of flat, maybe a little numb. Multiply that a thousand fold. True. hehehe. Lots of people like the spell. g Glad you like it. Nope, I don't see him as one to cry easily either. But… he's still asking a lot of a fifteen year old boy. He can't be too proud of what he has to do.
Wonder: Oh, absolutely. Snape's been horrible to Harry, and I don't think many besides Dumbledore can even *see* the better side of him. Yeah, I really had to think about what Dumbledore was to Harry. His tendency towards leniency and gentle guidance… especially when he found him at the Mirror of Erised sp?, really spoke to me. Thanks. Hope you like this chapter too. Putting the spell into play was harder than I thought it would be.
LittleEar BigEar's sis: Thanks.
FirePixie28: Well, I'm sure there's lots of reasons why Snape did the spell… 8-)
WeasleyTwinsLover1112: here's a Kleenex
PurePsychicEspeon: Thanks! I enjoy putting Snape in the thick of things. Hmmm. 8-) I like it! Especially since it seems being Headmaster means so much more. hehehehe Ooops. Moi? Say it isn't so! 8-) Okay. I'll try. It took a long time for me to figure out what Harry should get for his b-day. Glad you liked the presents. Thanks!
Katalina: Thanks.
Anti Pasta: Yeah, it did. Glad you stuck with it. Yep, here's the meat of the story. Hmm. Good thoughts. I like them. I'll bet she is. Harry needs *something* for a defense!
Kaydee: Wow, long time since I heard from you! No problem. You *were* missed, though. 8-) Thanks! Well, I had to think of something good for a bad affect of Veritaserum, didn't I? I've already done so much to poor Harry, I had to make it so that it was still something awful. Why is that? Is it something wrong with me? 8-) You'll see… Hmmm. More like he found it distasteful. Nothing too deep. Glad you liked Azkaban. I must admit I pictured it a bit like Alkatraz. Yep. You got it. Bastille. Off with their heads! 8-) Ooops. Slipped in a little Alice in Wonderland there, too. Yep, you can. I suspect the college level courses are *far* more interesting, too. I love the quotes you find significant. Yeah. I wanted to get how it would *feel* to actually approach and *be* in a place like this. Yep, I meant it that way. Heck, I even snickered writing it. Thanks. Yeah, me neither. Poor Pettigrew. It sure sucks to be him. Nope, Sirius won't care. He's right. Then Pettigrew *should* have died. He just doesn't understand that there are some things worse than death… Yep. That's a lovely thought, isn't it? As if there wasn't enough animosity between those two. Not sure. Does Snape even really *want* to? After all, he's a Potion Master. What would his motivation be to want to teach Dark Arts? I've never heard *him* say it, and until I do… My judgment is reserved. Rather pleased with that sentence myself. Geez, I love what you bring up! You know why his eyes slip over Snape? He's already in his nightmares…. So seeing him there is nothing new. Yeah, Albus is a hard one to wrap around. Wise and childlike at the same time. He's an enigma. Good description of him! Thanks. Hmmm. Me too. It sure is handy, isn't it? True. Nobody tells, do they? Thanks for reviewing. Welcome back.
Hyper Princess: Sure thing.
Kapies: Hmmm. Can there be one? 8-)
Linds: Thanks!
SpiderGirl05: Me too.
Psychochick: lol I'll try. 8-)
SammiSnape: Um… Sorry 'bout that.
AshFarley: I giggled all day about your review. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I just *live* for this sort of thing. I was so insecure for so many years about my writing. Posting here is one of the smartest things I've ever done. In truth, I *do* have some original stuff, too. I've got about 150 pages of one story that I sort of put on hold to write this. It was such a *small* little plot bunny, too. Now I've surpassed my original. I promise I *will* go back to the original once I'm done here. It's just… I've *got* to finish it now! 8-) I *do* love HP. Quite a compliment indeed. I must admit, I dream for the day when (notice my optimism? I'm working on the whole 'positive thinking thing') I get published. I'd quit my day job and spend all day doing what I now have to squeeze in at 4 a.m. every morning to do (and I'm *not* a morning person). hehehe. I look forward to hearing more from you, and seeing if you like where the rest of the chapters are going. Thank you very much. I'm working on trying to remember that. I promise, as soon as I finish my original, to start trying to submit it. I have to take deep calming breaths, now. Nope, no anxiety here. I'd love the Saturn award, personally, although published and paid is the best validation I can think of. *Please* let this someday be my day job. 8-) Thanks again for the kind review!
Phoenix: Okay! g
LadyFoxFire: Oooh, bummer. I'd be going through serious withdrawal. Well, work is work. Good deal. Post soon!
Summersun: It is.
Lothey: Loved it. I'm making everyone look. Hope you don't mind! Trust me. Reviews are addictive.
Dabbler: Yes, they do… Thanks.
Tanya: Smiles happily Thanks! Good. I try to throw some humor in, but keep it real. Glad it works. It's easy to get wrapped up in the angst of it all. A bit harder to keep the humor. Wow. Thank you. Sadly, it's a life experience that makes it real. Ah well. Truth is truth, no matter *what* the medium. You know what… I *loved* this insight. I totally had not thought about that. Wow. Hmmm. I'll get back to you on that… 8-)
Weird: Okay.
PurePsychicEspeon: (See, I'll answer each time you post) Congrats! Thanks for the recommendations. I think that's how a lot of people found this story. I know it starts out slow, but I'm reluctant to repost anything until I'm done, even though I've obviously got some corrections to make.