Disclaimer: the usual. I don't own them. I just play with them.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. In college we have this thing called homework, and it tends to get in the way of my pleasure writing. After this week I should be able to post a bit more. Usually the wait won't be this long, but I had 3 papers and 2 projects come due. As you will see, I had no intention of killing Snape. Yet. *winks* This chapter is a bit boring, but necessary.
I wasn't too sure about this chapter. *sighs in resignation* I tried hard on the various interactions, so review and tell me how I did. Snape is a complicated character. If you want a wonderful take on his POV, go see Bored Beyond Belief's Never Alone, Never Again.
This is dedicated to Lisa, who aside from being a name sister, has also been taken away by the men in white coats. It's a good thing they restrained you, because the last person who lunged at me ended up . . . well, you get the idea. Your reviews made me cackle maniacally until my roommates were slowly backing out of the room in fear. Yeah, I AM EVIL!!! And proud of it. That's why my name's psychochick. Go read my bio. And besides, 13 is my lucky number.
Chapter 14
Lady Death appeared very surprised once Harry was standing before her again. Actually, more like shocked speechless. And no wonder, for when Harry glanced down at his feet he saw the body of Professor Severus Snape lying there. Thankfully he was no longer twitching, but the alternative was nearly as bad. He was not moving at all, and Harry feared he was dead. He bent down and checked the spy's pulse.
"I, I thought you said it was just a dream," Harry mumbled to Death. She nodded dumbly, and found her voice. "It was, and still is," but she too stared at the body. "That, in all my years, has never happened before. Your consciousness is here, but your physical body is in your realm, sleeping. But he . . . he is actually here, mentally and physically."
"But does that mean . . . he's dead?" Death shook her head. "No. It means somehow your dream self latched onto him and pulled him back with you. You just saved his life." Harry could not believe his ears. "How the hell did I manage that?!" "I have absolutely no idea. But he cannot stay here. You must try and take him back with you when you wake up."
Harry nodded reluctantly and grasped Snape's arm, then concentrated on returning to his realm. The white light surrounded them again, and suddenly Harry sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. For a wild moment he thought that maybe he had had a bad reaction to the pork at dinner and it was all just a food-poisoning induced hallucination. That hope was shattered when Snape's inert body tumbled onto the floor in a heap next to the bed.
Harry swore quietly and jumped out of bed, yanking on a robe over his boxers as he checked the senseless professor. With a mutter of "Mobilicorpus," he floated him down the hall to another room, magically removing the outer Death Eater robes and settling him in the bed before running downstairs for his supply of potions and Muggle medicines. Grabbing a few select bottles he sprinted back up, but paused outside the room as a thought struck him.
Despite his words earlier, Harry sincerely doubted that Snape would be very pleased to wake up in the care of Harry Potter. But if he thought he was Wraith . . . Harry quickly transfigured into his alter ego and entered the room. Luckily Snape was still out cold for the moment, his breathing a bit shallow but with a strong pulse. He had not been under the curse for too long fortunately.
Harry set about getting him to swallow a couple of potions, then began cleaning and healing the numerous cuts that had erupted all over his body. By the time he was finished, the unexpected patient looked much better, even with the perpetually unwashed hair, and sleeping soundly. Harry made a note to wash the pillows later as he yawned and glanced at the clock. With a groan he realized it was almost 4 in the morning and he was dead tired. He dragged himself back to his own room and instantly fell asleep on the bed again, this time without dreams.
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Snape stirred awake and his eyes snapped open. Where was he? The last thing he could recall was the unbearable pain, then a flash of bright light. He had welcomed it, thinking he had finally earned the death he almost longed for. No such luck. He glanced around, noting the unfamiliar but comfortable furnishings even as he felt the lingering aches from the curse, clearly telling him that he was still alive. A noise at the door drew his attention, and he turned his head as a familiar young man walked in.
Snape goggled at the wizard. "How . . . what . . . what happened?" Wraith pushed him back down as he tried to sit up. "Easy. Don't move just yet. Voldemort discovered you were a spy last night and tortured you. I managed to pull you out in time. Here, drink this, it'll help." He pressed a bottle of some irritatingly pink potion into the professor's hand. Snape grimaced but downed the whole thing, ignoring the acrid and bitter taste from something that looked like a bubblegum milkshake.
"Do you remember now?" Snape nodded a bit as last night's events poured into his brain, and Wraith chuckled with genuine amusement glittering in his eyes. "That was probably one of the gutsiest, yet stupidest displays I've ever seen. When you spat in Voldemort's face, man, you could have sold tickets to that." That caused the spy to grin, albeit somewhat reservedly. Then he sobered up again. "Why did you save me?"
Wraith looked at him calculatingly. "The same reason you saved me with the antidote. And that was the reason you almost died last night, so I guess I felt it was my duty to save you this time." He stood. "You should rest. Let the potion do its work." With that he walked out. Snape settled down into the blankets once again and sleep reclaimed him into her embrace within minutes.
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Outside the door Wraith leaned against the wall and sighed as his features morphed back into Harry. *That was too weird. Snape was being human, to me! And he is in my house.* He shook his head in disbelief. *I hope he can leave before tomorrow night. I have enough to explain as it is.* Still musing over the surreal situation, he wandered downstairs for breakfast.
"Morning sunshine!" a bright voice chirped. Eva was already in the kitchen munching some toast while reading the paper. Harry just grunted noncommittally, not in the mood for her antics this morning. She looked up to meet his eyes. "I heard noises last night. What happened this time?"
Harry grimaced and began telling her about the dream and Snape's rescue as he scrounged up something to eat. However, he neglected to mention Death's part in the whole affair; something inside told him not to, and he trusted his instincts. Eva sat there with her mouth open when he finished.
"That's amazing! I've never heard of that ever happening before in any realm." She grinned, her eyes glittering. "And now you've got your most despised professor under your roof. Have you tried to poison him yet?" Harry snorted into his cereal. "Eva, he saved my life, I saved his. He's under my roof, so no poisoning, pranks, or practical jokes," he said a bit sternly. "In fact, I don't think you should see him at all. He thinks I'm Wraith and that's how it's going to stay. He just has to leave before tomorrow night."
Eva nodded in understanding, looking a bit disappointed but still with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She changed the subject. "You ready to get your butt whooped again? Or are you too tired from dreaming about Snape?" Her pupil looked disgusted but with a small amount of amused challenge. "You have the most twisted mind I've ever met. Any butt whooping today is going to be on you, dear." She stood and pulled him to his feet. "Then c'mon hotshot, put your muscles where your mouth is."
They raced each other down to the training room, Harry with his longer legs outdistancing Eva. As soon as they stepped across the threshold, she tackled him from behind and they went tumbling head over heels. They landed with Eva on top, straddling him and hands reaching for the pressure points on his neck. Harry slapped her hands away and twisted his hips sharply, dumping her onto the floor, then proceeded to roll on top of her, pinning her down with his body weight while reaching for the same pressure points.
Eva retaliated by thrusting a knee up sharply, but fortunately for him missed her intended target and got him in the stomach. He curled up slightly with an "oof!" allowing her to wiggle free and roll to the opposite side of the mat. In seconds, they were both on their feet and circling, then simultaneously sprang at each other to meet in the center in a bone-crushing tackle.
The next few minutes continued in much the same manner, and Harry learned fast that this type of fighting meant no mercy whatsoever. Soon trainer and pupil were both covered in bruises and blood, but they ignored their injuries and pain as they grappled fiercely. It was quickly apparent that Eva was more imaginative and sneaky with this, and while Harry held his own for a while and got in some good shots, she dominated. She had him on the ground when suddenly she tangled him up in a wrestling hold that resembled a human pretzel, hoisted him above her head in an impressive military press and threw him against the far wall. The pretzel broke as he hit the wall to splatter spread-eagled like a bug, then he slumped to the floor, momentarily stunned.
Eva stood over him, smirking. "American Muggles have his wonderful invention call WWF on the tele. It's basically the most brutal yet the most staged brand of publicly endorsed fighting you can find. Kind of like Jerry Springer, but with better costumes. Of course, if you don't rehearse it beforehand you can really hurt someone. It might help you to watch a few matches before we spar next time." Harry glared at her. "You must watch a lot of it in your spare time." "Not really, I actually prefer hockey. More blood."
Harry rolled over with a groan. "I can see why they didn't want you to teach me this. So why now?" She suddenly frowned. "I had intended all along to teach you, but I needed you to put some space mentally and spatially between your training and your uncle." He looked surprised; he had forgotten all about Vernon's beating. "Exactly. If I had shown you this the first time around, you would've forever associated it with that disgusting pig, and that would've held you back. Psychology is just as important as physical battles. Look at how well Voldemort uses it. People are still scared of his name."
Harry checked his watch. "I need to go check on Snape. He should be waking up at any time now. I think we're done here for now. Besides," a twinkle returned to his eye, "I want to go for a spin on my bike." He pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door as she giggled. As he passed her though, he administered a swift kick to the back of the knee, which sent her sprawling on the mat, then ran before she could get up. Her cursing followed him up the stairs. "Never let your guard down!" he called playfully back.
Chuckling, he ran up to Snape's bedroom and entered as Wraith to find the professor wide awake. "Feel better?" "Much." "Good. Bathroom's through here, there are extra robes in the wardrobe here if you don't want your old ones, and the kitchen is downstairs to the left. Feel free to help yourself to anything there." Wraith smiled and left again to give the man privacy, this time heading for the front door. The Black Shadow was just where he had left it, on the covered front porch. He had grabbed his black leather trenchrobe this time and pulled it one before mounting the bike and zooming off.
Harry loved to fly, whether on a broomstick, car, motorcycle, as a phoenix, whatever. But this motorcycle had a thrill all its own, especially when tearing down a winding road in the middle of nowhere at around 200 km/hr. He could not help the grin that spread across his face as he again used a cliff as his runway and flew up into the air. This machine had power to it and he exalted in it, pushing it to the limits. He had not felt this alive in a long time, what with staring death in the face almost every night in one form or another. It felt so good to just take some time to live.
All too soon he realized he had to return and check on Snape. Who knows what sort of mischief the Potions Master could get up to? He grinned as he reluctantly kicked the Shadow back around and flew back to his house to land on the front lawn again. The sooner the professor was out to the house the better.
Wheeling the Shadow up onto the porch, he sauntered toward the kitchen while he stripped off his trenchrobe, mentally congratulating himself on keeping up the Wraith persona. Then he stopped dead in his tracks at the scene before him, shock freezing him. Snape was in the kitchen, curiously inspecting the IMP which was glowing blue. Now Harry was mentally kicking himself. *Why did I leave that out? Should've known it would cause trouble. Oh please don't let him touch that.* He composed himself and said casually "Lovely day, isn't it?"
Snape looked up, slightly startled. He had not heard anyone come in. "Yes, it is. I was just about to eat breakfast when this parchment started glowing. Fascinating. Albus has one just like it, but he never told me what it does." Before Wraith could intervene, the ex-Death Eater touched the parchment, and a message began scrawling across it at lightning speed.
It was from Ron. "Hey Harry, good to hear from you. FINALLY! Anyway, tomorrow night sounds great. My whole family can come, and Hermione too. Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus said to tell you they are coming too. I hope you have enough food! Oh, and Remus is bringing his girlfriend if that's okay. Can you believe it? What's worse, it's Professor Figg! Oh, sorry, she says to call her Arabella when we're not at school. That's just too weird. Hope you're okay, and we'll see you tomorrow." Ron's messy signature could be seen at the bottom.
Snape read it with his eyes wide, then slitted in thought. Wraith thought fast and reached over, grabbed the parchment and frowned. "That isn't mine. So where did I put it?" he pretended with astonishment. Walking outside as if searching, he picked up a stray leaf by the hammock, transfiguring it into a parchment in a heartbeat before reentering the house. "I left mine outside, so Harry must have left his here by accident," he lied smoothly.
Snape looked as if he had just bitten into something incredibly sour. "Potter has been here?" Wraith shrugged. "A few times. He was over yesterday to help me with one of my projects, and he brought that over so he could message his friends." "You know where he is?" "Yeah, I helped arrange his summer house. We keep in touch." Snape turned away at that and began fixing himself toast and tea. When he had sat down, Wraith inquired, "Why do you hate Harry so much?"
Snape pursed his thin lips. "It's a long story." Wraith eyed him. "I've got time." The ex-spy glared at the young man across from him and saw the determined glint in his eyes, so he sighed and began to speak. "I actually don't hate him, per se." Wraith managed to control his outward reaction to a simple raised eyebrow even as his insides keeled over in shock. He settled in for the long haul. "It starts long before he was born. When I was at Hogwarts, his father James and his friends formed a group called the Marauders. Their sole purpose in life seemed to be to play pranks just to irritate everyone and congratulate themselves on their daring. They loved to target us Slytherins, and me in particular." He scowled deeply at the memories, but continued.
"I worked hard, but James was the star. Head Boy, Quidditch captain, hero of the school, heartthrob and an insufferable prat." He snorted. "But despite what I'd like to believe, he didn't care about the glory. I might have hated him less if he had, but no. He was happiest when he was with his friends and Lily. She was one of the prettiest girls in the school, and he was the lucky bastard that won her heart." Snape glanced away, seeing the distant past play in his memories.
"The worst part is, he saved my life. Lupin's a werewolf, and his friends were protecting his secret. I saw him one night go out to the Whooping Willow on the grounds and disappear into a tunnel. Black told me the trick to getting there is by prodding a knot with a stick, and it would freeze the tree. Well, I tried it, but when I was almost at the end of the tunnel, James showed up.
"He pulled me back and practically hauled me out of there. Lupin had already transformed and if I had gone any farther, the wolf would have killed me, or worse." Snape drew a deep breath. "James had saved my life, and to make it worse he didn't think it was a big deal. He never acted like I owed him anything for it, and in fact had a huge fight with Black over the whole incident.
"After school, nothing changed. He married Lily, the prettiest and smartest girl in our year. His friends stuck by him through everything. They had the perfect marriage, the perfect life, the perfect careers as the two bloody best Aurors in Europe. And I," he shook his head, "I became a Death Eater. Upheld the family name for the Dark Side, sought after knowledge and power the Dark Lord promised. And what did I find?" Snape curled back his lip in a snarl.
"That I was only a slave, to a delusional murdering megalomaniac. I hated him, and I hated the Potters for it. It took a few years, actually, until the McKinnons . . ." he swallowed hard and appeared to be pushing back some dark memories, "but then I started thinking about everything. Lily had always been kind to me, even when I called her a Mudblood. She had even been my Charms tutor. James risked his life to save mine, and then here I was wasting my life following Voldemort. They had everything, and I ended up with nothing. Then came the news that one of Potter's friends had turned on them, and was passing information to the Dark Lord."
Snape took a sip of his tea and sighed. "Lily had a baby boy shortly after that, Harry, and something happened that made Voldemort obsessed with killing the Potters, something to do with the boy. At that point I knew I couldn't stand it any more. I went to Dumbledore and begged forgiveness, promising to help him if he could keep me out of Azkaban. He placed a lot of trust in me, and sent me back as a spy. We let James and Lily know the Dark Lord was after them, and that someone close was a traitor."
Here Snape managed to sneer and look sorrowful at the same time. "Personally I thought it was Lupin. A werewolf can never be trusted. I wasn't very surprised when Black was arrested though. He always had a vicious temper and was a borderline Slytherin. He loved sneaking around, made a good if unpredictable Auror. But Pettigrew," he shook his greasy head. "I should have suspected. He only joined the Marauders because they were the strongest Gryffindors and could protect him. I didn't actually believe it until last year, after the TriWizard Tournament. I rejoined the Death Eaters, and Pettigrew, or Wormtail, stood right next to a reborn Voldemort. The little coward," he snarled.
"But I digress. When I saw Harry for the first time, he was a pint-sized celebrity in the spitting image of his dad. The Boy Who Lived, savior of the wizarding world, Quidditch hero for Gryffindor and youngest Seeker in a century, and all around troublemaker. I assumed he had grown up spoiled beyond belief by those Muggles, weaned on stories of his father's antics and his mother's perfection."
He sneered at the memory, lips curling like they did so often in class. "I decided that I would show him that not everybody was going to hand him everything on a silver platter and treat him with kid gloves. Yet every time I looked at him I remembered my debt to James which I never had the chance to repay. So while on one hand I punished Harry whenever I could, I also worked to save his life."
Snape sighed, a bit regretful, a strange sound to anyone who knew the Potions Master. "I was wrong about the Muggles though. I was part of the Death Eater force sent to kidnap Potter from his house. I couldn't believe my eyes. He was locked up in the smallest bedroom with little furniture and no decorations. His uncle had beaten the shit out of him, to put it bluntly, and there was blood everywhere. After he disappeared, Dumbledore told me more about his childhood. Harry used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, his relatives barely fed him and used him as a house elf, and one time the Weasleys had to rescue him in the middle of the night because the Muggles had locked him up and starved him. He never knew about his parents until Hagrid was sent to fetch him. And that son of theirs, Dudley, was the spoiled whale of the family." He sighed again, "Here I was, judging Harry for my assumptions, and he got enough of that crap back home."
He snorted and drank another sip of tea. "Just to prove me wrong even further, when he disappeared he was trained to use his powers and abilities as a blood heir, which let him achieve the level of Grand master war mage and the Phoenix Lord. Yet somehow after he told us, the memories of the others were blocked. He kept a low profile and tried not to draw that much attention to his powers, and never mentioned it again. No one suspects anything, except I believe Granger and Weasley know. He hates living in a spotlight, hates his fame. So now I don't have a reason to hate him anymore. But I can't just change overnight the behavior I've shown him for the past five years."
Snape looked away and asked quietly, rhetorically, "How do you tell a student you've loathed that suddenly you don't really hate him, you respect him for what he does?"
All through this recitation Wraith sat there, listening and keeping his face expressionless even as the words shocked him. Actually shock is too mild a word. If epiphanies are often described as being hit by lightning, then this little revelation was having the grandmother of all lightning bolts strike him while simultaneously having the moon land on his head. His thoughts were jumbled up, racing by and crashing into each other like a flock of deranged owls in a hurricane. For long minutes both men sat in silence, contemplating Snape's words.
Finally Wraith made a decision. "I think you did a good job." When the Potions Master glanced up, startled, Harry let his disguise drop and stared back with his own green eyes. Snape's black eyes widened with shock and recognition. After a long moment, Harry reached across the table with his hand extended. "Thank you. For my life. And the truth," he said quietly.
Snape stared at the hand, then slowly his features softened and he even gave a very small smile. He extended his own hand and they shook. "Thank you, for my life and your honesty." Harry grinned at that. "Now we're even." Snape chuckled dryly and shook his head. "No one will ever believe this." "I won't tell if you won't."
Snape appraised him critically. "So you are Wraith. But how did you manage to not miss a single class all year? Some of the attacks were during the day." "Same way Voldemort 'kidnapped' me from the Dursleys," he said with a conspiratorial grin. "Ah, you used the clone." "Yep. Harry stays in the spotlight while Wraith works in the shadows. It was a bit tricky at times, but it had its fun moments too. Like the knife juggling." Harry laughed at the memory, and Snape snickered too. "Madame Pomfrey wasn't too pleased."
"Speaking of that, what did you add to my potion?" Snape looked vaguely irritated still, and Harry decided to actually answer him this time. "I always keep a few bottles of phoenix tears and various healing potions on me when I'm Wraith. Taken separately the tears would've slowed the poison, but when mixed with the antidote it catalyzed it to react with my metabolism to speed up the healing process. And not just from the poison. I was lucky," he added ruefully. "Fawkes was there to help slow the poison until you had the antidote. Without both of you I would have died."
Thinking back to that night, a question occurred to the professor. "Do you know the plant kingsfoil?" Harry glanced at him curiously. "Actually, yes. I grow some out in my garden. Why?" "It's very rare and damn near impossible to find, but it has some amazing properties to it. If I had had some that night, I wouldn't have needed to brew anything." Harry stood. "Well then let's go see if it's mature enough to pick."
The two strolled out to the garden and began inspecting the small leaves growing at the base of the far wall. "Looks like they need about another week or so before they're ready. I'll send you some then." "I'd appreciate that. By the way, how did you get this house?" Snape gestured behind him at the grounds and structure. "It rivals some manor houses I know, including the Malfoy's."
Harry laughed at that. "I didn't realize that. I bought this property and built the house in my spare time, with a little help. Would you like a quick tour? The entire house is magical and rooms can be expanded, added or removed when needed." Harry proceeded to show off his home, working their way top to bottom.
Eventually they found Eva, who was still working out in the weapons room downstairs, battling three practice dummies with a katana. She stopped when she saw the undisguised Harry with Snape and ran over. Grinning widely, she appraised the Potions Master. "Hello, are you feeling better this morning? Or actually it's afternoon by now. Time flies when you're having fun kicking the stuffing out of these dummies. You're lucky, Harry ordered me not to initiate you into my personal prank list. Too bad, I could have some fun with just that hair of yours. And from what I've heard . . ."
Harry chuckled and shook his head at her hyperactive ramblings. "Professor, this is my trainer Eva. She's only this worked up when she's sparring. Something about the endorphin levels affecting her brain chemistry." Eva favored him with a mock glare and said, "Have you shown him the lab yet? When you do, don't touch the stuff on table three, that's my little project and you'll just mess it up. If you do, I'll be forced to eviscerate you with the silverware."
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, waved cheerily at Snape before dashing back to her sparring. Harry led the slightly stunned professor out of the room. "I can see what you mean when you said she takes some getting used to. What is this lab she was talking about?" Harry explained, "The lab is what she insists on calling my Potions room. Right over here." The door swung open automatically at their approach, and Snape stepped into his idea of heaven.
There were six separate worktables with a selection of cauldron sizes, cutting boards, knives, pestles and mortars, ladles, scales, bottles and bowls neatly arranged along one wall. Another wall was covered with shelves of labeled ingredients in alphabetical order, and a big wash area stood in the center. The room was well-ventilated and -lit, and the far wall was a giant bookcase stacked with what seemed like every book and tome on potions ever written.
Snape gaped in open-mouthed astonishment and delight as Harry briefly inspected the goop bubbling in one cauldron, then checked the next table before slicing up some ginger root, mixing them with a strange red liquid and pouring it into the potion. He stirred for a moment; the potion hissed and turned a nasty brownish color. Snape snapped out of his trance and stepped over to investigate. Harry explained without looking up, "I use several different poisons on my darts, arrows, and knives, so I brew them all by hand. This particular one I invented during my training. It simulates the effects of a prank Eva once pulled on me, but with a slightly harsher ending. Namely paralysis and incredible pain."
He glanced slyly over at the Potions Master. "I can't wait to introduce Sirius to Eva. I think they'll get along splendidly." He laughed as Snape shuddered in absolute horror. "That would be a greater evil than . . . than . . ." The professor seemed lost for an adequate analogy, so Harry cheerfully helped him out. "Than Voldemort in a leotard and pink tutu?"
Snape gagged at that mental image. "That is just . . . wrong . . . on so many levels." He glared incredulously at his grinning student. "I cannot believe you just said that. Even with your father's and Black's influence." Harry just shrugged. "Eva corrupted me. She can be pretty demented at times." Snape glanced at him sideways through narrowed eyes, deciding to bait him a bit. "So, she's staying here with you?" "For now, yes." "You two seem pretty close. She's not sleeping in your bed, is she?"
He fought to keep a straight face as Harry turned to him in horror. His mean old Potions professor asking about his sex life?! "I cannot believe you just asked that!" Snape shrugged dismissively. "Well, when you said she corrupted you, that could mean . . ." Harry cut him off before that train of thought could go any further. "You're disgusting, you know that?" He shook his head sharply, looking pained and revolted. Snape finally allowed the grin to unfurl across his face. "One good turn deserves another, don't you think?" He began laughing when he saw Harry's glare.
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Later that afternoon, seated in the living room Harry asked, "So what are you going to do about the rest of the summer? I bet the Death Eaters are searching for you, most likely spying on your house." Snape nodded. "I've already planned for this since last summer. After I report to Dumbledore, they're moving me to a safe house the Order set up in Muggle London." He grimaced briefly. "Good thing it's only a few weeks before the new Hogwarts term, because the safe house is completely cut off."
Harry, on impulse, summoned an extra sheet of parchment, a small bottle of a blue liquid and his wand. He sprinkled a bit of potion onto the parchment, held his wand to it and muttered a few words in Latin. He set it to the side, explaining, "I've just made what I call an IMP, or instant messenger parchment. That's what you saw earlier. You write on yours to a person with one, and messages are instantly brought up when you touch it. Usually you have to say "send" or "receive," but I've modified it recently. In about three hours this one will be done. Right now it's locating and hooking up to the others. I doubt you'll want to talk to Ron or Hermione, but Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus all have one. That way you're not completely out of touch."
Snape considered the gift with a slight trace of both appreciation and suspicion. "It's untraceable?" "Completely." "How will I explain where I got it?" "Blame it on Wraith, that's what I always do. Imaginary friends are very useful sometimes." Harry grinned cheekily as Snape glared askance at him and sneered, "Sometimes you have the maturity level of a five year old." "Only on my good days."
Harry changed the subject. "When do you need to report back?" "Probably as soon as possible. Dumbledore's already worried about me, and I have to inform him that my position's been compromised." "Well, whenever you need to hide out for awhile, I always have room. And I know you want to play in the lab." Snape actually blushed a bit at that. "How about this: you can go play to your heart's content for the next three hours. By them the IMP will be finished, and I can make you a Portkey to send you to Hogwarts. Just don't touch table three, or Eva might kill you."
They exchanged smiles before Snape practically ran downstairs, except that running is too undignified for him, so he stalked quickly. *Like a kid in a candy store* Harry chuckled to himself before going to find something to transform into a Portkey to Hogwarts.
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Snape left later that afternoon, clutching a few bottles of freshly-brewed potions and parchments of copied recipes. Still a bit weirded out at the sharp turnaround of behavior from his professor, Harry went for a quick ride on the Shadow before joining Eva for dinner and sparring. Eva also convinced him into a little dance session, which was actually more tiring than the hand to hand combat.
The next morning after breakfast and another physical lesson, Harry had to put up with Eva's input on the dinner menu for that night; for some odd reason she was extremely energetic, bouncing around like a five year old with candy, and wanted to add cayenne pepper to most of the dishes. This was strange behavior even for her, and he wondered what in Merlin's beard was going on. First Snape, now Eva. Next thing you know, Voldemort would suddenly declare that he was the Easter Bunny.
Harry shook his head at that thought and got back to his planning. He was trying to decide between two different entrees when suddenly his scar flashed with unbearable pain. It cut right to the center of his brain, paralyzing and blinding him in its intensity as he collapsed to the ground, moaning. He briefly heard Eva shouting his name before the world faded from his senses and blackness embraced him.
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Harry found himself standing in near pure darkness. The surface under his feet rippled like water as he stepped forward uncertainly, but felt stronger than stone. The space around was black and empty, no life anywhere as far as he could see from horizon to horizon. He was instantly alert; searching for whatever it was that had drawn him here. He could hear his own heart beating, but otherwise a cold silence prevailed.
Abruptly a familiar laugh rang out behind him, and Harry spun around, a chill running down his spine as he tried to find the source of that laughter. "My, you certainly have grown since we last met," the high cold voice said mockingly. "Show yourself," Harry ordered firmly. Another chuckle, then "Very well." Harry came face to face with Voldemort.
The Dark Lord stood there with a derisive smile on his face. He gestured around. "Do you like it? One of many new tricks I have learned since my rebirth. This one is called a Dream Stand. Thanks to the connections we share, I can summon you here whenever I want, and what happens here also has an affect on the real world. Fascinating, no?"
Harry just glared at him, pure fire dancing in his eyes. "What do you want, you snake-face bastard?" "My my, such manners. What would your mother think of such rude behavior?" Harry snarled, "Thanks to you, I don't have the opportunity to find out. Why did you bring me here?" Voldemort just shook his head in mock sadness. "That temper of yours is going to get you into trouble someday. I merely wished to show off my latest talent to someone I knew could appreciate it. And to conduct a test run of sorts." The glowing red eyes assessed the young man. "Crucio!"
Harry fell, writhing in pain but refusing to scream and give Voldemort the satisfaction. He tried to remember Eva's lessons on pain. "It's all in your mind, it's not actually real. Pain is your body telling your mind that something is wrong, but your body doesn't feel it. The brain does. Find the part of your mind that senses the pain and block it out. Build mental walls around it, force yourself to ignore it, and pain will no longer be an obstacle." He started focusing, pushing the agony aside, and the pain began to fade. Before he had entirely succeeded, the curse lifted.
Voldemort was laughing again, but there was no wand in sight. "Tell me young Harry, did that hurt? I am keeping a record of my successful experiments, and a quote from you would be nice." Harry finished putting up the last of his mental blocks before slowly climbing to his feet. Voldemort paced back and forth in front of him, a parody of a lecturer. "It is interesting that wand magic is completely useless here. A normal witch or wizard would be as helpless as a Muggle. But we are not normal, are we?"
He smirked. "Yes, so many similarities. I wonder, have you mastered wandless magic as I have? You have the capabilities to." Harry said nothing. "Stubborn, aren't you? No matter." The smirk transmuted into an evil grin. "Let's have a duel, and we shall see what new abilities you have mastered since our last meeting. Don't worry, I won't kill you. Yet."
Immediately Voldemort shot out his hand and cast another Cruciatus curse, but Harry dodged it. Another curse flew at him, so he dove off to the side. This pattern repeated itself for the next several curses, and Voldemort was getting frustrated. "You can't keep dodging forever boy. There are no Portkeys to rescue you this time." Harry realized that he was right, but he wanted to keep the extent of his abilities hidden until the time came. He finally cast a wandless curse at his opponent, but made it weaker than he could. Only if this turned critical would he unleash his full strength.
The Dark Lord just stepped to the side in contempt as the curse flew by him, and muttered scornfully, "Pathetic. I expected more from you." He threw several curses in quick succession, but Harry established a Shield charm so they ricocheted off. From there the duel intensified, curses shooting out and reflected or dodged, until Harry was suddenly distracted by a strange glow off to the side, just catching his peripheral vision.
His lapse in concentration cost him, for Voldemort threw another Cruciatus at him. This time the pain flared up, but was quickly stifled and ignored, and Harry remained on his feet. Instinctively he threw back a powerful curse, the same one he had used in Azkaban during the talisman fight to meld the flesh of the legs together. Voldemort fell over in shock and pain, but screeched "Crucio Maximus!" from his prone position on the ground.
This time the agony of the curse managed to overwhelm his mental blocks, and Harry barely held back a scream as he convulsed, all his nerves firing off at once, crushing, twisting, stretching, freezing, burning him simultaneously. He fought for focus, to slam the mental blocks back into place and make it stop.
Finally the curse lifted, and Harry lay there panting for breath. Voldemort had undone the melding curse and approached, crouching down and half lifting him up by his collar. "Your skills have grown Potter, but you are no match for me. Now I know you know about the talismans. I will make you a deal. You join me and accept the Dark Mark. Together we will find the talisman and power beyond imagining will be ours. Immortality will be in our grasp. In exchange, I promise I will spare your friends."
Harry did not even have to think about it. "Go to hell!" and taking a cue from Snape, spat viciously in Voldemort's skull-white face. That face transformed into a grotesque mask of unadulterated rage and hate. He hissed venomously, "You think you can defeat me still, but you are wrong. I offered you a chance no one else could ever enjoy, but you chose death instead. I may not be able to kill you here, but I can make you suffer until you beg for death!" One long white finger came up and pressed firmly onto the scar on Harry's forehead.
Harry's screams could have wakened the dead. Pain from the earlier curses was like kissing a pretty girl compared to this. His head threatened to split open to release the drills and ice picks thrusting into his brain. His eyes clenched tightly shut as his back arched up and locked like a strung bow, bright starbursts erupting behind his eyelids. Muscles went rigid similar to electrocution, his whole body stiffened, he could not move, could not think, could not breathe. All he knew were the unbelievable shocks of pain coursing all through his body and the pressure on his scar.
He felt a warm sticky liquid running down his cheek; his scar had split open and blood poured out. *Make it stop make it stop make it stop!* He pried his eyes open to slits, trying to make his muscles cooperate so he could tear himself from Voldemort's grasp. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the unearthly glow from before, now drawing nearer. Desperate, Harry wrenched his head to the side violently, knocking Voldemort's finger away.
The pain stopped and he could move again. With another wrench he loosened the grip on his collar, and brought up a hand to twist the wrist still grasping the fabric. Squeezing, he felt a sharp pop as bones in Voldemort's hand and wrist snapped under the pressure, then he shoved back with all his might. With a yell of pain, Harry was free. He rolled stiffly towards the light, and he heard the Dark Lord's scream of fury just before he vanished.
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Silence again surrounded him, but this time the air was far from empty. Instead it throbbed with power and magic, and Harry instantly knew where he was: Back in the shadow realm, outside the ancient city of the Guardians. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief even as his body protested against any movement at all. He was perfectly willing to just lie there and breathe, but footsteps resounded in the earth under his head, signaling the approach of another being.
He groaned softly and reluctantly opened his eyes to find himself looking up into Death's lovely face. She appeared concerned. "Harry, what happened? What are you doing here? I did not summon you." Harry began to tell her everything, from the initial arrival in the Dream Stand to the weird glow that transported him. She helped him sit up as he spoke, and eventually he was able to stand on his own slightly shaky legs. Death pursed her lips as he finished his tale, deep in thought.
"This was most unexpected. His powers are growing faster than I thought. Although I confess I do believe you have some untapped abilities yourself. That is the only way to explain your last two episodes here. You must have called that light to yourself to rescue you, and your professor last night. That is good, for now you have an escape out of the Dream Stand if he should ever call you again. Very well," Death turned to go, "you must be off, and so must I."
Harry, thinking about a question that had been bothering him for awhile and had occurred to him during the duel, quickly called out, "Wait!" Death turned to look at him. "I have a question that's been bugging me. Why did Voldemort want to kill me in the first place?" She stared at him, and unless he was quite mistaken, she was shocked. "I know about the Prophecy, with the blood of the four and Merlin's heir. But that's not right, because I only inherited Slytherin's blood when Voldemort failed to kill me." Death shook herself and said shortly, "Follow me," and stalked gracefully into the city.
They passed by elegant buildings and sweeping avenues to the heart of the city where the archives were stored. She led him deep underground, beneath millions of years of collected records and research, to a tiny room devoid of any furnishings. The rock walls and low ceiling gave the impression of being trapped in a cave, especially once Death closed and locked the wooden door.
She sat on the floor, and once Harry was seated across from her, began to speak. "No one has ever told you about the day you were born?" He shook his head. "The actual delivery was normal, completely within Nature's plan. However, events transpired later that evening that Voldemort somehow found out about. This is what made you special, even before you became the Boy Who Lived. Fortunately your parents and Dumbledore hid this from everyone, even your godfather, in order to protect you and them. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what happened."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Words cannot properly describe it. I must show you instead." Death reached out to touch his forehead, but as soon as she made contact an electric shock ran through him, painful in its intensity. Harry hissed in pain, and she withdrew her hand. "I am sorry, but we cannot continue now. You are still recovering from the Dream Stand. When you are whole again, you shall see."
Death and the room faded away, leaving Harry in the darkness of oblivion. He fought against it, desperately searching for the light. He could faintly hear a voice calling his name, and he followed the sound, letting it guide him back to consciousness. He cracked open his eyes and Eva's concerned face swam into view. *What is it with me and waking up to beautiful faces?* He almost smirked, but the look she was giving him convinced him not to push his luck right now.
"Harry, what the hell happened? You just fell over and took a nap with your eyes open, then you started twitching and screaming and your scar bled all over the place. I couldn't contact you mentally either. I had to drag your sorry ass upstairs to bed and clean you up." She took a deep breath to calm herself, and then asked again, "What happened?"
Harry swallowed around a dry throat and winced, then began describing again the Dream Stand. For some reason he decided to keep any mention of Death and the shadow realm to himself for now, and instead skipped to where he heard Eva calling him back. She shook her head in sadness and helped him drink the same potion he had given Snape earlier. It took away most of the aches left in his body, but his scar still burned fiercely and induced a pounding headache.
Now he could see clearly again and noticed the sweat-soaked and bloodstained sheets thrown about, and his present state of partial undress. His shirt lay on the floor next to his boots, also coated in sweat and blood, and he was currently wearing only the running shorts he had neglected to change out of after his workout. Harry began to blush and protest, but Eva cut him off with "It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before. Relax. Listen, we have two hours until your guests arrive. You take a nap, then shower and make yourself presentable. Meanwhile, I'll take care of dinner, and I promise I won't poison anyone. Okay?" He nodded tiredly and sank back into his pillows as she tucked him in, and was soon asleep.
A/N: Sorry this took so long. In college we have this thing called homework, and it tends to get in the way of my pleasure writing. After this week I should be able to post a bit more. Usually the wait won't be this long, but I had 3 papers and 2 projects come due. As you will see, I had no intention of killing Snape. Yet. *winks* This chapter is a bit boring, but necessary.
I wasn't too sure about this chapter. *sighs in resignation* I tried hard on the various interactions, so review and tell me how I did. Snape is a complicated character. If you want a wonderful take on his POV, go see Bored Beyond Belief's Never Alone, Never Again.
This is dedicated to Lisa, who aside from being a name sister, has also been taken away by the men in white coats. It's a good thing they restrained you, because the last person who lunged at me ended up . . . well, you get the idea. Your reviews made me cackle maniacally until my roommates were slowly backing out of the room in fear. Yeah, I AM EVIL!!! And proud of it. That's why my name's psychochick. Go read my bio. And besides, 13 is my lucky number.
Chapter 14
Lady Death appeared very surprised once Harry was standing before her again. Actually, more like shocked speechless. And no wonder, for when Harry glanced down at his feet he saw the body of Professor Severus Snape lying there. Thankfully he was no longer twitching, but the alternative was nearly as bad. He was not moving at all, and Harry feared he was dead. He bent down and checked the spy's pulse.
"I, I thought you said it was just a dream," Harry mumbled to Death. She nodded dumbly, and found her voice. "It was, and still is," but she too stared at the body. "That, in all my years, has never happened before. Your consciousness is here, but your physical body is in your realm, sleeping. But he . . . he is actually here, mentally and physically."
"But does that mean . . . he's dead?" Death shook her head. "No. It means somehow your dream self latched onto him and pulled him back with you. You just saved his life." Harry could not believe his ears. "How the hell did I manage that?!" "I have absolutely no idea. But he cannot stay here. You must try and take him back with you when you wake up."
Harry nodded reluctantly and grasped Snape's arm, then concentrated on returning to his realm. The white light surrounded them again, and suddenly Harry sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. For a wild moment he thought that maybe he had had a bad reaction to the pork at dinner and it was all just a food-poisoning induced hallucination. That hope was shattered when Snape's inert body tumbled onto the floor in a heap next to the bed.
Harry swore quietly and jumped out of bed, yanking on a robe over his boxers as he checked the senseless professor. With a mutter of "Mobilicorpus," he floated him down the hall to another room, magically removing the outer Death Eater robes and settling him in the bed before running downstairs for his supply of potions and Muggle medicines. Grabbing a few select bottles he sprinted back up, but paused outside the room as a thought struck him.
Despite his words earlier, Harry sincerely doubted that Snape would be very pleased to wake up in the care of Harry Potter. But if he thought he was Wraith . . . Harry quickly transfigured into his alter ego and entered the room. Luckily Snape was still out cold for the moment, his breathing a bit shallow but with a strong pulse. He had not been under the curse for too long fortunately.
Harry set about getting him to swallow a couple of potions, then began cleaning and healing the numerous cuts that had erupted all over his body. By the time he was finished, the unexpected patient looked much better, even with the perpetually unwashed hair, and sleeping soundly. Harry made a note to wash the pillows later as he yawned and glanced at the clock. With a groan he realized it was almost 4 in the morning and he was dead tired. He dragged himself back to his own room and instantly fell asleep on the bed again, this time without dreams.
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Snape stirred awake and his eyes snapped open. Where was he? The last thing he could recall was the unbearable pain, then a flash of bright light. He had welcomed it, thinking he had finally earned the death he almost longed for. No such luck. He glanced around, noting the unfamiliar but comfortable furnishings even as he felt the lingering aches from the curse, clearly telling him that he was still alive. A noise at the door drew his attention, and he turned his head as a familiar young man walked in.
Snape goggled at the wizard. "How . . . what . . . what happened?" Wraith pushed him back down as he tried to sit up. "Easy. Don't move just yet. Voldemort discovered you were a spy last night and tortured you. I managed to pull you out in time. Here, drink this, it'll help." He pressed a bottle of some irritatingly pink potion into the professor's hand. Snape grimaced but downed the whole thing, ignoring the acrid and bitter taste from something that looked like a bubblegum milkshake.
"Do you remember now?" Snape nodded a bit as last night's events poured into his brain, and Wraith chuckled with genuine amusement glittering in his eyes. "That was probably one of the gutsiest, yet stupidest displays I've ever seen. When you spat in Voldemort's face, man, you could have sold tickets to that." That caused the spy to grin, albeit somewhat reservedly. Then he sobered up again. "Why did you save me?"
Wraith looked at him calculatingly. "The same reason you saved me with the antidote. And that was the reason you almost died last night, so I guess I felt it was my duty to save you this time." He stood. "You should rest. Let the potion do its work." With that he walked out. Snape settled down into the blankets once again and sleep reclaimed him into her embrace within minutes.
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Outside the door Wraith leaned against the wall and sighed as his features morphed back into Harry. *That was too weird. Snape was being human, to me! And he is in my house.* He shook his head in disbelief. *I hope he can leave before tomorrow night. I have enough to explain as it is.* Still musing over the surreal situation, he wandered downstairs for breakfast.
"Morning sunshine!" a bright voice chirped. Eva was already in the kitchen munching some toast while reading the paper. Harry just grunted noncommittally, not in the mood for her antics this morning. She looked up to meet his eyes. "I heard noises last night. What happened this time?"
Harry grimaced and began telling her about the dream and Snape's rescue as he scrounged up something to eat. However, he neglected to mention Death's part in the whole affair; something inside told him not to, and he trusted his instincts. Eva sat there with her mouth open when he finished.
"That's amazing! I've never heard of that ever happening before in any realm." She grinned, her eyes glittering. "And now you've got your most despised professor under your roof. Have you tried to poison him yet?" Harry snorted into his cereal. "Eva, he saved my life, I saved his. He's under my roof, so no poisoning, pranks, or practical jokes," he said a bit sternly. "In fact, I don't think you should see him at all. He thinks I'm Wraith and that's how it's going to stay. He just has to leave before tomorrow night."
Eva nodded in understanding, looking a bit disappointed but still with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She changed the subject. "You ready to get your butt whooped again? Or are you too tired from dreaming about Snape?" Her pupil looked disgusted but with a small amount of amused challenge. "You have the most twisted mind I've ever met. Any butt whooping today is going to be on you, dear." She stood and pulled him to his feet. "Then c'mon hotshot, put your muscles where your mouth is."
They raced each other down to the training room, Harry with his longer legs outdistancing Eva. As soon as they stepped across the threshold, she tackled him from behind and they went tumbling head over heels. They landed with Eva on top, straddling him and hands reaching for the pressure points on his neck. Harry slapped her hands away and twisted his hips sharply, dumping her onto the floor, then proceeded to roll on top of her, pinning her down with his body weight while reaching for the same pressure points.
Eva retaliated by thrusting a knee up sharply, but fortunately for him missed her intended target and got him in the stomach. He curled up slightly with an "oof!" allowing her to wiggle free and roll to the opposite side of the mat. In seconds, they were both on their feet and circling, then simultaneously sprang at each other to meet in the center in a bone-crushing tackle.
The next few minutes continued in much the same manner, and Harry learned fast that this type of fighting meant no mercy whatsoever. Soon trainer and pupil were both covered in bruises and blood, but they ignored their injuries and pain as they grappled fiercely. It was quickly apparent that Eva was more imaginative and sneaky with this, and while Harry held his own for a while and got in some good shots, she dominated. She had him on the ground when suddenly she tangled him up in a wrestling hold that resembled a human pretzel, hoisted him above her head in an impressive military press and threw him against the far wall. The pretzel broke as he hit the wall to splatter spread-eagled like a bug, then he slumped to the floor, momentarily stunned.
Eva stood over him, smirking. "American Muggles have his wonderful invention call WWF on the tele. It's basically the most brutal yet the most staged brand of publicly endorsed fighting you can find. Kind of like Jerry Springer, but with better costumes. Of course, if you don't rehearse it beforehand you can really hurt someone. It might help you to watch a few matches before we spar next time." Harry glared at her. "You must watch a lot of it in your spare time." "Not really, I actually prefer hockey. More blood."
Harry rolled over with a groan. "I can see why they didn't want you to teach me this. So why now?" She suddenly frowned. "I had intended all along to teach you, but I needed you to put some space mentally and spatially between your training and your uncle." He looked surprised; he had forgotten all about Vernon's beating. "Exactly. If I had shown you this the first time around, you would've forever associated it with that disgusting pig, and that would've held you back. Psychology is just as important as physical battles. Look at how well Voldemort uses it. People are still scared of his name."
Harry checked his watch. "I need to go check on Snape. He should be waking up at any time now. I think we're done here for now. Besides," a twinkle returned to his eye, "I want to go for a spin on my bike." He pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door as she giggled. As he passed her though, he administered a swift kick to the back of the knee, which sent her sprawling on the mat, then ran before she could get up. Her cursing followed him up the stairs. "Never let your guard down!" he called playfully back.
Chuckling, he ran up to Snape's bedroom and entered as Wraith to find the professor wide awake. "Feel better?" "Much." "Good. Bathroom's through here, there are extra robes in the wardrobe here if you don't want your old ones, and the kitchen is downstairs to the left. Feel free to help yourself to anything there." Wraith smiled and left again to give the man privacy, this time heading for the front door. The Black Shadow was just where he had left it, on the covered front porch. He had grabbed his black leather trenchrobe this time and pulled it one before mounting the bike and zooming off.
Harry loved to fly, whether on a broomstick, car, motorcycle, as a phoenix, whatever. But this motorcycle had a thrill all its own, especially when tearing down a winding road in the middle of nowhere at around 200 km/hr. He could not help the grin that spread across his face as he again used a cliff as his runway and flew up into the air. This machine had power to it and he exalted in it, pushing it to the limits. He had not felt this alive in a long time, what with staring death in the face almost every night in one form or another. It felt so good to just take some time to live.
All too soon he realized he had to return and check on Snape. Who knows what sort of mischief the Potions Master could get up to? He grinned as he reluctantly kicked the Shadow back around and flew back to his house to land on the front lawn again. The sooner the professor was out to the house the better.
Wheeling the Shadow up onto the porch, he sauntered toward the kitchen while he stripped off his trenchrobe, mentally congratulating himself on keeping up the Wraith persona. Then he stopped dead in his tracks at the scene before him, shock freezing him. Snape was in the kitchen, curiously inspecting the IMP which was glowing blue. Now Harry was mentally kicking himself. *Why did I leave that out? Should've known it would cause trouble. Oh please don't let him touch that.* He composed himself and said casually "Lovely day, isn't it?"
Snape looked up, slightly startled. He had not heard anyone come in. "Yes, it is. I was just about to eat breakfast when this parchment started glowing. Fascinating. Albus has one just like it, but he never told me what it does." Before Wraith could intervene, the ex-Death Eater touched the parchment, and a message began scrawling across it at lightning speed.
It was from Ron. "Hey Harry, good to hear from you. FINALLY! Anyway, tomorrow night sounds great. My whole family can come, and Hermione too. Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus said to tell you they are coming too. I hope you have enough food! Oh, and Remus is bringing his girlfriend if that's okay. Can you believe it? What's worse, it's Professor Figg! Oh, sorry, she says to call her Arabella when we're not at school. That's just too weird. Hope you're okay, and we'll see you tomorrow." Ron's messy signature could be seen at the bottom.
Snape read it with his eyes wide, then slitted in thought. Wraith thought fast and reached over, grabbed the parchment and frowned. "That isn't mine. So where did I put it?" he pretended with astonishment. Walking outside as if searching, he picked up a stray leaf by the hammock, transfiguring it into a parchment in a heartbeat before reentering the house. "I left mine outside, so Harry must have left his here by accident," he lied smoothly.
Snape looked as if he had just bitten into something incredibly sour. "Potter has been here?" Wraith shrugged. "A few times. He was over yesterday to help me with one of my projects, and he brought that over so he could message his friends." "You know where he is?" "Yeah, I helped arrange his summer house. We keep in touch." Snape turned away at that and began fixing himself toast and tea. When he had sat down, Wraith inquired, "Why do you hate Harry so much?"
Snape pursed his thin lips. "It's a long story." Wraith eyed him. "I've got time." The ex-spy glared at the young man across from him and saw the determined glint in his eyes, so he sighed and began to speak. "I actually don't hate him, per se." Wraith managed to control his outward reaction to a simple raised eyebrow even as his insides keeled over in shock. He settled in for the long haul. "It starts long before he was born. When I was at Hogwarts, his father James and his friends formed a group called the Marauders. Their sole purpose in life seemed to be to play pranks just to irritate everyone and congratulate themselves on their daring. They loved to target us Slytherins, and me in particular." He scowled deeply at the memories, but continued.
"I worked hard, but James was the star. Head Boy, Quidditch captain, hero of the school, heartthrob and an insufferable prat." He snorted. "But despite what I'd like to believe, he didn't care about the glory. I might have hated him less if he had, but no. He was happiest when he was with his friends and Lily. She was one of the prettiest girls in the school, and he was the lucky bastard that won her heart." Snape glanced away, seeing the distant past play in his memories.
"The worst part is, he saved my life. Lupin's a werewolf, and his friends were protecting his secret. I saw him one night go out to the Whooping Willow on the grounds and disappear into a tunnel. Black told me the trick to getting there is by prodding a knot with a stick, and it would freeze the tree. Well, I tried it, but when I was almost at the end of the tunnel, James showed up.
"He pulled me back and practically hauled me out of there. Lupin had already transformed and if I had gone any farther, the wolf would have killed me, or worse." Snape drew a deep breath. "James had saved my life, and to make it worse he didn't think it was a big deal. He never acted like I owed him anything for it, and in fact had a huge fight with Black over the whole incident.
"After school, nothing changed. He married Lily, the prettiest and smartest girl in our year. His friends stuck by him through everything. They had the perfect marriage, the perfect life, the perfect careers as the two bloody best Aurors in Europe. And I," he shook his head, "I became a Death Eater. Upheld the family name for the Dark Side, sought after knowledge and power the Dark Lord promised. And what did I find?" Snape curled back his lip in a snarl.
"That I was only a slave, to a delusional murdering megalomaniac. I hated him, and I hated the Potters for it. It took a few years, actually, until the McKinnons . . ." he swallowed hard and appeared to be pushing back some dark memories, "but then I started thinking about everything. Lily had always been kind to me, even when I called her a Mudblood. She had even been my Charms tutor. James risked his life to save mine, and then here I was wasting my life following Voldemort. They had everything, and I ended up with nothing. Then came the news that one of Potter's friends had turned on them, and was passing information to the Dark Lord."
Snape took a sip of his tea and sighed. "Lily had a baby boy shortly after that, Harry, and something happened that made Voldemort obsessed with killing the Potters, something to do with the boy. At that point I knew I couldn't stand it any more. I went to Dumbledore and begged forgiveness, promising to help him if he could keep me out of Azkaban. He placed a lot of trust in me, and sent me back as a spy. We let James and Lily know the Dark Lord was after them, and that someone close was a traitor."
Here Snape managed to sneer and look sorrowful at the same time. "Personally I thought it was Lupin. A werewolf can never be trusted. I wasn't very surprised when Black was arrested though. He always had a vicious temper and was a borderline Slytherin. He loved sneaking around, made a good if unpredictable Auror. But Pettigrew," he shook his greasy head. "I should have suspected. He only joined the Marauders because they were the strongest Gryffindors and could protect him. I didn't actually believe it until last year, after the TriWizard Tournament. I rejoined the Death Eaters, and Pettigrew, or Wormtail, stood right next to a reborn Voldemort. The little coward," he snarled.
"But I digress. When I saw Harry for the first time, he was a pint-sized celebrity in the spitting image of his dad. The Boy Who Lived, savior of the wizarding world, Quidditch hero for Gryffindor and youngest Seeker in a century, and all around troublemaker. I assumed he had grown up spoiled beyond belief by those Muggles, weaned on stories of his father's antics and his mother's perfection."
He sneered at the memory, lips curling like they did so often in class. "I decided that I would show him that not everybody was going to hand him everything on a silver platter and treat him with kid gloves. Yet every time I looked at him I remembered my debt to James which I never had the chance to repay. So while on one hand I punished Harry whenever I could, I also worked to save his life."
Snape sighed, a bit regretful, a strange sound to anyone who knew the Potions Master. "I was wrong about the Muggles though. I was part of the Death Eater force sent to kidnap Potter from his house. I couldn't believe my eyes. He was locked up in the smallest bedroom with little furniture and no decorations. His uncle had beaten the shit out of him, to put it bluntly, and there was blood everywhere. After he disappeared, Dumbledore told me more about his childhood. Harry used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, his relatives barely fed him and used him as a house elf, and one time the Weasleys had to rescue him in the middle of the night because the Muggles had locked him up and starved him. He never knew about his parents until Hagrid was sent to fetch him. And that son of theirs, Dudley, was the spoiled whale of the family." He sighed again, "Here I was, judging Harry for my assumptions, and he got enough of that crap back home."
He snorted and drank another sip of tea. "Just to prove me wrong even further, when he disappeared he was trained to use his powers and abilities as a blood heir, which let him achieve the level of Grand master war mage and the Phoenix Lord. Yet somehow after he told us, the memories of the others were blocked. He kept a low profile and tried not to draw that much attention to his powers, and never mentioned it again. No one suspects anything, except I believe Granger and Weasley know. He hates living in a spotlight, hates his fame. So now I don't have a reason to hate him anymore. But I can't just change overnight the behavior I've shown him for the past five years."
Snape looked away and asked quietly, rhetorically, "How do you tell a student you've loathed that suddenly you don't really hate him, you respect him for what he does?"
All through this recitation Wraith sat there, listening and keeping his face expressionless even as the words shocked him. Actually shock is too mild a word. If epiphanies are often described as being hit by lightning, then this little revelation was having the grandmother of all lightning bolts strike him while simultaneously having the moon land on his head. His thoughts were jumbled up, racing by and crashing into each other like a flock of deranged owls in a hurricane. For long minutes both men sat in silence, contemplating Snape's words.
Finally Wraith made a decision. "I think you did a good job." When the Potions Master glanced up, startled, Harry let his disguise drop and stared back with his own green eyes. Snape's black eyes widened with shock and recognition. After a long moment, Harry reached across the table with his hand extended. "Thank you. For my life. And the truth," he said quietly.
Snape stared at the hand, then slowly his features softened and he even gave a very small smile. He extended his own hand and they shook. "Thank you, for my life and your honesty." Harry grinned at that. "Now we're even." Snape chuckled dryly and shook his head. "No one will ever believe this." "I won't tell if you won't."
Snape appraised him critically. "So you are Wraith. But how did you manage to not miss a single class all year? Some of the attacks were during the day." "Same way Voldemort 'kidnapped' me from the Dursleys," he said with a conspiratorial grin. "Ah, you used the clone." "Yep. Harry stays in the spotlight while Wraith works in the shadows. It was a bit tricky at times, but it had its fun moments too. Like the knife juggling." Harry laughed at the memory, and Snape snickered too. "Madame Pomfrey wasn't too pleased."
"Speaking of that, what did you add to my potion?" Snape looked vaguely irritated still, and Harry decided to actually answer him this time. "I always keep a few bottles of phoenix tears and various healing potions on me when I'm Wraith. Taken separately the tears would've slowed the poison, but when mixed with the antidote it catalyzed it to react with my metabolism to speed up the healing process. And not just from the poison. I was lucky," he added ruefully. "Fawkes was there to help slow the poison until you had the antidote. Without both of you I would have died."
Thinking back to that night, a question occurred to the professor. "Do you know the plant kingsfoil?" Harry glanced at him curiously. "Actually, yes. I grow some out in my garden. Why?" "It's very rare and damn near impossible to find, but it has some amazing properties to it. If I had had some that night, I wouldn't have needed to brew anything." Harry stood. "Well then let's go see if it's mature enough to pick."
The two strolled out to the garden and began inspecting the small leaves growing at the base of the far wall. "Looks like they need about another week or so before they're ready. I'll send you some then." "I'd appreciate that. By the way, how did you get this house?" Snape gestured behind him at the grounds and structure. "It rivals some manor houses I know, including the Malfoy's."
Harry laughed at that. "I didn't realize that. I bought this property and built the house in my spare time, with a little help. Would you like a quick tour? The entire house is magical and rooms can be expanded, added or removed when needed." Harry proceeded to show off his home, working their way top to bottom.
Eventually they found Eva, who was still working out in the weapons room downstairs, battling three practice dummies with a katana. She stopped when she saw the undisguised Harry with Snape and ran over. Grinning widely, she appraised the Potions Master. "Hello, are you feeling better this morning? Or actually it's afternoon by now. Time flies when you're having fun kicking the stuffing out of these dummies. You're lucky, Harry ordered me not to initiate you into my personal prank list. Too bad, I could have some fun with just that hair of yours. And from what I've heard . . ."
Harry chuckled and shook his head at her hyperactive ramblings. "Professor, this is my trainer Eva. She's only this worked up when she's sparring. Something about the endorphin levels affecting her brain chemistry." Eva favored him with a mock glare and said, "Have you shown him the lab yet? When you do, don't touch the stuff on table three, that's my little project and you'll just mess it up. If you do, I'll be forced to eviscerate you with the silverware."
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, waved cheerily at Snape before dashing back to her sparring. Harry led the slightly stunned professor out of the room. "I can see what you mean when you said she takes some getting used to. What is this lab she was talking about?" Harry explained, "The lab is what she insists on calling my Potions room. Right over here." The door swung open automatically at their approach, and Snape stepped into his idea of heaven.
There were six separate worktables with a selection of cauldron sizes, cutting boards, knives, pestles and mortars, ladles, scales, bottles and bowls neatly arranged along one wall. Another wall was covered with shelves of labeled ingredients in alphabetical order, and a big wash area stood in the center. The room was well-ventilated and -lit, and the far wall was a giant bookcase stacked with what seemed like every book and tome on potions ever written.
Snape gaped in open-mouthed astonishment and delight as Harry briefly inspected the goop bubbling in one cauldron, then checked the next table before slicing up some ginger root, mixing them with a strange red liquid and pouring it into the potion. He stirred for a moment; the potion hissed and turned a nasty brownish color. Snape snapped out of his trance and stepped over to investigate. Harry explained without looking up, "I use several different poisons on my darts, arrows, and knives, so I brew them all by hand. This particular one I invented during my training. It simulates the effects of a prank Eva once pulled on me, but with a slightly harsher ending. Namely paralysis and incredible pain."
He glanced slyly over at the Potions Master. "I can't wait to introduce Sirius to Eva. I think they'll get along splendidly." He laughed as Snape shuddered in absolute horror. "That would be a greater evil than . . . than . . ." The professor seemed lost for an adequate analogy, so Harry cheerfully helped him out. "Than Voldemort in a leotard and pink tutu?"
Snape gagged at that mental image. "That is just . . . wrong . . . on so many levels." He glared incredulously at his grinning student. "I cannot believe you just said that. Even with your father's and Black's influence." Harry just shrugged. "Eva corrupted me. She can be pretty demented at times." Snape glanced at him sideways through narrowed eyes, deciding to bait him a bit. "So, she's staying here with you?" "For now, yes." "You two seem pretty close. She's not sleeping in your bed, is she?"
He fought to keep a straight face as Harry turned to him in horror. His mean old Potions professor asking about his sex life?! "I cannot believe you just asked that!" Snape shrugged dismissively. "Well, when you said she corrupted you, that could mean . . ." Harry cut him off before that train of thought could go any further. "You're disgusting, you know that?" He shook his head sharply, looking pained and revolted. Snape finally allowed the grin to unfurl across his face. "One good turn deserves another, don't you think?" He began laughing when he saw Harry's glare.
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Later that afternoon, seated in the living room Harry asked, "So what are you going to do about the rest of the summer? I bet the Death Eaters are searching for you, most likely spying on your house." Snape nodded. "I've already planned for this since last summer. After I report to Dumbledore, they're moving me to a safe house the Order set up in Muggle London." He grimaced briefly. "Good thing it's only a few weeks before the new Hogwarts term, because the safe house is completely cut off."
Harry, on impulse, summoned an extra sheet of parchment, a small bottle of a blue liquid and his wand. He sprinkled a bit of potion onto the parchment, held his wand to it and muttered a few words in Latin. He set it to the side, explaining, "I've just made what I call an IMP, or instant messenger parchment. That's what you saw earlier. You write on yours to a person with one, and messages are instantly brought up when you touch it. Usually you have to say "send" or "receive," but I've modified it recently. In about three hours this one will be done. Right now it's locating and hooking up to the others. I doubt you'll want to talk to Ron or Hermione, but Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus all have one. That way you're not completely out of touch."
Snape considered the gift with a slight trace of both appreciation and suspicion. "It's untraceable?" "Completely." "How will I explain where I got it?" "Blame it on Wraith, that's what I always do. Imaginary friends are very useful sometimes." Harry grinned cheekily as Snape glared askance at him and sneered, "Sometimes you have the maturity level of a five year old." "Only on my good days."
Harry changed the subject. "When do you need to report back?" "Probably as soon as possible. Dumbledore's already worried about me, and I have to inform him that my position's been compromised." "Well, whenever you need to hide out for awhile, I always have room. And I know you want to play in the lab." Snape actually blushed a bit at that. "How about this: you can go play to your heart's content for the next three hours. By them the IMP will be finished, and I can make you a Portkey to send you to Hogwarts. Just don't touch table three, or Eva might kill you."
They exchanged smiles before Snape practically ran downstairs, except that running is too undignified for him, so he stalked quickly. *Like a kid in a candy store* Harry chuckled to himself before going to find something to transform into a Portkey to Hogwarts.
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Snape left later that afternoon, clutching a few bottles of freshly-brewed potions and parchments of copied recipes. Still a bit weirded out at the sharp turnaround of behavior from his professor, Harry went for a quick ride on the Shadow before joining Eva for dinner and sparring. Eva also convinced him into a little dance session, which was actually more tiring than the hand to hand combat.
The next morning after breakfast and another physical lesson, Harry had to put up with Eva's input on the dinner menu for that night; for some odd reason she was extremely energetic, bouncing around like a five year old with candy, and wanted to add cayenne pepper to most of the dishes. This was strange behavior even for her, and he wondered what in Merlin's beard was going on. First Snape, now Eva. Next thing you know, Voldemort would suddenly declare that he was the Easter Bunny.
Harry shook his head at that thought and got back to his planning. He was trying to decide between two different entrees when suddenly his scar flashed with unbearable pain. It cut right to the center of his brain, paralyzing and blinding him in its intensity as he collapsed to the ground, moaning. He briefly heard Eva shouting his name before the world faded from his senses and blackness embraced him.
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Harry found himself standing in near pure darkness. The surface under his feet rippled like water as he stepped forward uncertainly, but felt stronger than stone. The space around was black and empty, no life anywhere as far as he could see from horizon to horizon. He was instantly alert; searching for whatever it was that had drawn him here. He could hear his own heart beating, but otherwise a cold silence prevailed.
Abruptly a familiar laugh rang out behind him, and Harry spun around, a chill running down his spine as he tried to find the source of that laughter. "My, you certainly have grown since we last met," the high cold voice said mockingly. "Show yourself," Harry ordered firmly. Another chuckle, then "Very well." Harry came face to face with Voldemort.
The Dark Lord stood there with a derisive smile on his face. He gestured around. "Do you like it? One of many new tricks I have learned since my rebirth. This one is called a Dream Stand. Thanks to the connections we share, I can summon you here whenever I want, and what happens here also has an affect on the real world. Fascinating, no?"
Harry just glared at him, pure fire dancing in his eyes. "What do you want, you snake-face bastard?" "My my, such manners. What would your mother think of such rude behavior?" Harry snarled, "Thanks to you, I don't have the opportunity to find out. Why did you bring me here?" Voldemort just shook his head in mock sadness. "That temper of yours is going to get you into trouble someday. I merely wished to show off my latest talent to someone I knew could appreciate it. And to conduct a test run of sorts." The glowing red eyes assessed the young man. "Crucio!"
Harry fell, writhing in pain but refusing to scream and give Voldemort the satisfaction. He tried to remember Eva's lessons on pain. "It's all in your mind, it's not actually real. Pain is your body telling your mind that something is wrong, but your body doesn't feel it. The brain does. Find the part of your mind that senses the pain and block it out. Build mental walls around it, force yourself to ignore it, and pain will no longer be an obstacle." He started focusing, pushing the agony aside, and the pain began to fade. Before he had entirely succeeded, the curse lifted.
Voldemort was laughing again, but there was no wand in sight. "Tell me young Harry, did that hurt? I am keeping a record of my successful experiments, and a quote from you would be nice." Harry finished putting up the last of his mental blocks before slowly climbing to his feet. Voldemort paced back and forth in front of him, a parody of a lecturer. "It is interesting that wand magic is completely useless here. A normal witch or wizard would be as helpless as a Muggle. But we are not normal, are we?"
He smirked. "Yes, so many similarities. I wonder, have you mastered wandless magic as I have? You have the capabilities to." Harry said nothing. "Stubborn, aren't you? No matter." The smirk transmuted into an evil grin. "Let's have a duel, and we shall see what new abilities you have mastered since our last meeting. Don't worry, I won't kill you. Yet."
Immediately Voldemort shot out his hand and cast another Cruciatus curse, but Harry dodged it. Another curse flew at him, so he dove off to the side. This pattern repeated itself for the next several curses, and Voldemort was getting frustrated. "You can't keep dodging forever boy. There are no Portkeys to rescue you this time." Harry realized that he was right, but he wanted to keep the extent of his abilities hidden until the time came. He finally cast a wandless curse at his opponent, but made it weaker than he could. Only if this turned critical would he unleash his full strength.
The Dark Lord just stepped to the side in contempt as the curse flew by him, and muttered scornfully, "Pathetic. I expected more from you." He threw several curses in quick succession, but Harry established a Shield charm so they ricocheted off. From there the duel intensified, curses shooting out and reflected or dodged, until Harry was suddenly distracted by a strange glow off to the side, just catching his peripheral vision.
His lapse in concentration cost him, for Voldemort threw another Cruciatus at him. This time the pain flared up, but was quickly stifled and ignored, and Harry remained on his feet. Instinctively he threw back a powerful curse, the same one he had used in Azkaban during the talisman fight to meld the flesh of the legs together. Voldemort fell over in shock and pain, but screeched "Crucio Maximus!" from his prone position on the ground.
This time the agony of the curse managed to overwhelm his mental blocks, and Harry barely held back a scream as he convulsed, all his nerves firing off at once, crushing, twisting, stretching, freezing, burning him simultaneously. He fought for focus, to slam the mental blocks back into place and make it stop.
Finally the curse lifted, and Harry lay there panting for breath. Voldemort had undone the melding curse and approached, crouching down and half lifting him up by his collar. "Your skills have grown Potter, but you are no match for me. Now I know you know about the talismans. I will make you a deal. You join me and accept the Dark Mark. Together we will find the talisman and power beyond imagining will be ours. Immortality will be in our grasp. In exchange, I promise I will spare your friends."
Harry did not even have to think about it. "Go to hell!" and taking a cue from Snape, spat viciously in Voldemort's skull-white face. That face transformed into a grotesque mask of unadulterated rage and hate. He hissed venomously, "You think you can defeat me still, but you are wrong. I offered you a chance no one else could ever enjoy, but you chose death instead. I may not be able to kill you here, but I can make you suffer until you beg for death!" One long white finger came up and pressed firmly onto the scar on Harry's forehead.
Harry's screams could have wakened the dead. Pain from the earlier curses was like kissing a pretty girl compared to this. His head threatened to split open to release the drills and ice picks thrusting into his brain. His eyes clenched tightly shut as his back arched up and locked like a strung bow, bright starbursts erupting behind his eyelids. Muscles went rigid similar to electrocution, his whole body stiffened, he could not move, could not think, could not breathe. All he knew were the unbelievable shocks of pain coursing all through his body and the pressure on his scar.
He felt a warm sticky liquid running down his cheek; his scar had split open and blood poured out. *Make it stop make it stop make it stop!* He pried his eyes open to slits, trying to make his muscles cooperate so he could tear himself from Voldemort's grasp. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the unearthly glow from before, now drawing nearer. Desperate, Harry wrenched his head to the side violently, knocking Voldemort's finger away.
The pain stopped and he could move again. With another wrench he loosened the grip on his collar, and brought up a hand to twist the wrist still grasping the fabric. Squeezing, he felt a sharp pop as bones in Voldemort's hand and wrist snapped under the pressure, then he shoved back with all his might. With a yell of pain, Harry was free. He rolled stiffly towards the light, and he heard the Dark Lord's scream of fury just before he vanished.
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Silence again surrounded him, but this time the air was far from empty. Instead it throbbed with power and magic, and Harry instantly knew where he was: Back in the shadow realm, outside the ancient city of the Guardians. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief even as his body protested against any movement at all. He was perfectly willing to just lie there and breathe, but footsteps resounded in the earth under his head, signaling the approach of another being.
He groaned softly and reluctantly opened his eyes to find himself looking up into Death's lovely face. She appeared concerned. "Harry, what happened? What are you doing here? I did not summon you." Harry began to tell her everything, from the initial arrival in the Dream Stand to the weird glow that transported him. She helped him sit up as he spoke, and eventually he was able to stand on his own slightly shaky legs. Death pursed her lips as he finished his tale, deep in thought.
"This was most unexpected. His powers are growing faster than I thought. Although I confess I do believe you have some untapped abilities yourself. That is the only way to explain your last two episodes here. You must have called that light to yourself to rescue you, and your professor last night. That is good, for now you have an escape out of the Dream Stand if he should ever call you again. Very well," Death turned to go, "you must be off, and so must I."
Harry, thinking about a question that had been bothering him for awhile and had occurred to him during the duel, quickly called out, "Wait!" Death turned to look at him. "I have a question that's been bugging me. Why did Voldemort want to kill me in the first place?" She stared at him, and unless he was quite mistaken, she was shocked. "I know about the Prophecy, with the blood of the four and Merlin's heir. But that's not right, because I only inherited Slytherin's blood when Voldemort failed to kill me." Death shook herself and said shortly, "Follow me," and stalked gracefully into the city.
They passed by elegant buildings and sweeping avenues to the heart of the city where the archives were stored. She led him deep underground, beneath millions of years of collected records and research, to a tiny room devoid of any furnishings. The rock walls and low ceiling gave the impression of being trapped in a cave, especially once Death closed and locked the wooden door.
She sat on the floor, and once Harry was seated across from her, began to speak. "No one has ever told you about the day you were born?" He shook his head. "The actual delivery was normal, completely within Nature's plan. However, events transpired later that evening that Voldemort somehow found out about. This is what made you special, even before you became the Boy Who Lived. Fortunately your parents and Dumbledore hid this from everyone, even your godfather, in order to protect you and them. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what happened."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Words cannot properly describe it. I must show you instead." Death reached out to touch his forehead, but as soon as she made contact an electric shock ran through him, painful in its intensity. Harry hissed in pain, and she withdrew her hand. "I am sorry, but we cannot continue now. You are still recovering from the Dream Stand. When you are whole again, you shall see."
Death and the room faded away, leaving Harry in the darkness of oblivion. He fought against it, desperately searching for the light. He could faintly hear a voice calling his name, and he followed the sound, letting it guide him back to consciousness. He cracked open his eyes and Eva's concerned face swam into view. *What is it with me and waking up to beautiful faces?* He almost smirked, but the look she was giving him convinced him not to push his luck right now.
"Harry, what the hell happened? You just fell over and took a nap with your eyes open, then you started twitching and screaming and your scar bled all over the place. I couldn't contact you mentally either. I had to drag your sorry ass upstairs to bed and clean you up." She took a deep breath to calm herself, and then asked again, "What happened?"
Harry swallowed around a dry throat and winced, then began describing again the Dream Stand. For some reason he decided to keep any mention of Death and the shadow realm to himself for now, and instead skipped to where he heard Eva calling him back. She shook her head in sadness and helped him drink the same potion he had given Snape earlier. It took away most of the aches left in his body, but his scar still burned fiercely and induced a pounding headache.
Now he could see clearly again and noticed the sweat-soaked and bloodstained sheets thrown about, and his present state of partial undress. His shirt lay on the floor next to his boots, also coated in sweat and blood, and he was currently wearing only the running shorts he had neglected to change out of after his workout. Harry began to blush and protest, but Eva cut him off with "It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before. Relax. Listen, we have two hours until your guests arrive. You take a nap, then shower and make yourself presentable. Meanwhile, I'll take care of dinner, and I promise I won't poison anyone. Okay?" He nodded tiredly and sank back into his pillows as she tucked him in, and was soon asleep.