One Young Heart
Chapter 12: The Clock Struck One
Severus reentered his rooms, intending to write up his lesson plans for the next three days. He was halfway through the second year's depressant potion when the sample box beside him sprang open, revealing a multicolored lizard, which promptly proceeded to set fire to the lessons. "Bloody first years. one pinch of hemlock, two caterpillars. You tell them a hundred times, but do they listen? no." He grumbled idly for the twenty minuets it took to clean his desk back up, spelled the lizard back into the box, and made a mental note to give thing to Hagrid. If Severus was lucky, he might get to watch when the Care of Magical Creatures class met the thing. Put by this thought into a better temper than usual, he resumed work.
The clock struck ten.
Eleven.
A second year got caught out of bed, and knocked over three heavy objects overhead. Filch's curses filtered down through the stone.
Midnight. Peeves started singing his latest composition in honor of Harry.
The clock struck one and Severus started up violently, grabbing his wrist tightly, trying to force it to be still, squeeze it off, separate himself from the pain of his eternal brand of shame. He staggered backwards. The desk tumbled over, papers flying everywhere. he suppressed a yell. Zaire hissed and spat, as she always did when his brand burnt. Peeves finished composing his new song, gave the sleeping school a rousing rendition. Severus staggered into the next room, tried to run cold water across his arm.
The pain was gone, as abruptly as it had come. Severus froze, feeling every inch of his body as it recovered. In London, Lucius Malfoy rose and left his wife. At the Ministry, McNair excused himself and darted into an unused office. The Lestrange family started upright and vanished with a pop. The Dark Lord was angry. It would not do to be late.
Severus threw a quick note to Miss Granger onto the desk. He hated to see her touch his private files, but he did have classes the next day. Skidding down the stairs, he grabbed his cloak and hood, then ran down the passage at the very end of the corridor. Running to death, and running to despair, as likely as not. The Dark Lord was very angry.
Harry Potter awoke with a start, feeling rather than hearing the words that had plagued his sleep. "My lord, It can't be helped. The man would not speak. I had to kill him." "You had a full bottle of truth serum." "He would not speak, my lord." "Severus could have done it." "My lord does not trust Severus." The Dark Lord's voice turned even colder. "If you imagine that I trust you, you are very much mistaken, Jacques." He was amused now, his voice a hiss. "Traitor" Panicked, the man gasped "No! No my lord! There is still a brother at large. He was not there. They are twins. He may know!"
When Voldemort spoke again, there was no amusement. Just pure hate. "There is another one? You knew this, and did not tell me? Severus wold have brought him in. Even Lucius would have brought him in." The man was truly terrified now, digging his own grave as he spoke. "The boy killed the man I sent, and escaped." "WHAT! He knows I seek him, and you let him escape?" Then, the cry that woke all the Death Eaters, unable to hear the words beneath the anger "SEVERUS! GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"
Harry hadn't woken until the Death Eater had sobbed, in response to Voldemort's questioning "His name is George, my lord. George Weasly."
Frozen in horror, Harry looked across the room to where Ron slept silently. If George Weasly was the twin... Then Fred Weasly was dead.
Chapter 12: The Clock Struck One
Severus reentered his rooms, intending to write up his lesson plans for the next three days. He was halfway through the second year's depressant potion when the sample box beside him sprang open, revealing a multicolored lizard, which promptly proceeded to set fire to the lessons. "Bloody first years. one pinch of hemlock, two caterpillars. You tell them a hundred times, but do they listen? no." He grumbled idly for the twenty minuets it took to clean his desk back up, spelled the lizard back into the box, and made a mental note to give thing to Hagrid. If Severus was lucky, he might get to watch when the Care of Magical Creatures class met the thing. Put by this thought into a better temper than usual, he resumed work.
The clock struck ten.
Eleven.
A second year got caught out of bed, and knocked over three heavy objects overhead. Filch's curses filtered down through the stone.
Midnight. Peeves started singing his latest composition in honor of Harry.
The clock struck one and Severus started up violently, grabbing his wrist tightly, trying to force it to be still, squeeze it off, separate himself from the pain of his eternal brand of shame. He staggered backwards. The desk tumbled over, papers flying everywhere. he suppressed a yell. Zaire hissed and spat, as she always did when his brand burnt. Peeves finished composing his new song, gave the sleeping school a rousing rendition. Severus staggered into the next room, tried to run cold water across his arm.
The pain was gone, as abruptly as it had come. Severus froze, feeling every inch of his body as it recovered. In London, Lucius Malfoy rose and left his wife. At the Ministry, McNair excused himself and darted into an unused office. The Lestrange family started upright and vanished with a pop. The Dark Lord was angry. It would not do to be late.
Severus threw a quick note to Miss Granger onto the desk. He hated to see her touch his private files, but he did have classes the next day. Skidding down the stairs, he grabbed his cloak and hood, then ran down the passage at the very end of the corridor. Running to death, and running to despair, as likely as not. The Dark Lord was very angry.
Harry Potter awoke with a start, feeling rather than hearing the words that had plagued his sleep. "My lord, It can't be helped. The man would not speak. I had to kill him." "You had a full bottle of truth serum." "He would not speak, my lord." "Severus could have done it." "My lord does not trust Severus." The Dark Lord's voice turned even colder. "If you imagine that I trust you, you are very much mistaken, Jacques." He was amused now, his voice a hiss. "Traitor" Panicked, the man gasped "No! No my lord! There is still a brother at large. He was not there. They are twins. He may know!"
When Voldemort spoke again, there was no amusement. Just pure hate. "There is another one? You knew this, and did not tell me? Severus wold have brought him in. Even Lucius would have brought him in." The man was truly terrified now, digging his own grave as he spoke. "The boy killed the man I sent, and escaped." "WHAT! He knows I seek him, and you let him escape?" Then, the cry that woke all the Death Eaters, unable to hear the words beneath the anger "SEVERUS! GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"
Harry hadn't woken until the Death Eater had sobbed, in response to Voldemort's questioning "His name is George, my lord. George Weasly."
Frozen in horror, Harry looked across the room to where Ron slept silently. If George Weasly was the twin... Then Fred Weasly was dead.