As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
"Who--" McGonagall began but Harry didn't wait for the end of her query.
"Voldemort. It was... I felt something... All of a sudden it was like an awful headache was suddenly gone." He looked at the three adults hoping they might explain it, or at the very least understand. "But I knew it was something else and then I realized I felt... I don't know, free."
"Harry, Voldemort has enclosed himself behind some sort of shield at Stonehenge." Dumbledore explained calmly. "Had you any visions of this?"
"No sir. Nothing, not even a dream."
The Headmaster nodded absently. McGonagall gazed at the man with narrow-eyed uncertainty. "Do you have an idea what he's about, Albus?"
"No, I'm afraid not." The elder wizard sighed a long weary breath. "It worries me."
"Is Hogwarts safe then? And Harry?" Tonks asked clearly at a loss for any suggestion herself.
"Oh yes. Hogwarts is perhaps the safest place to be for anyone, my dear," the wizard assured her.
"And all we can do is keep Watch?"
"I have no other suggestion at the moment. Perhaps Alastor ought to have a look at the shield. His experiences are not as wide ranging as my own, but they are, at any rate, different."
Tonks nodded. "I'll suggest it to Kingsley, then." She took a moment to give Harry a quick, reassuring wink. The youth had gone quiet, probably as much to hear the conversation as to regain his composure.
"Mr Potter, if you've nothing else to report, I think it wise you return to bed. You still have a full day of classes tomorrow," the ever practical Transfigurations Professor suggested in a tone that would brook no disagreement.
Unable to come up with any convincing argument, the young wizard nodded.
"If you need to speak with me again, Harry, I will be here," Dumbledore reminded him with his kind eyes twinkling again. "But I think a night of pleasant sleep will be a wonderful experience for you, my dear."
Harry couldn't help but smile back at the idea and he clearly felt much better about leaving the adults to their plans and machinations.
After Harry's departure, Tonks gave the older pair a stern look. "What about Severus? I think I know where that Muggle woman has him."
Headmaster Dumbledore was keenly aware of the gazes of both women and their unstated but unmasked concern for the lost wizard. "I will allow you and Remus to do what you can. But as you did not see Severus himself, I fear you may be acting under false hope."
Tonks only nodded. There were no guarantees in her line of work. While she waited, the Headmaster threw some floo powder into the office fireplace and called loudly for Remus. That poor man answered the summons looking sleep-worn and disheveled, but uncommonly alert.
"Albus? What's wrong?"
"I am sorry to have awakened you, Remus. Please come to my office. Don't worry, while it is urgent, it is not quite an emergency."
"I'll be right there," the werewolf replied with a quick nod and pulled his head out of the fireplace.
Tonks sat back in one of the overstuffed chairs and absently chewed a fingernail. She eyed Minerva McGonagall, whose long fingers had entwined themselves worriedly, revealing the older witch's determinedly contained dread. Dumbledore had turned his attention to some letters on his desk, but he looked up suddenly and almost didn't wait for the knock on the door to call out "Enter."
Remus' eyes widened in surprise at seeing the others. "What's happened?"
"Tonks believes she knows where Severus is being held," Dumbledore replied immediately. "Understand, she did not actually see him. You two will have to confirm his location before you interact with the Muggles." He said this last looking sternly at the young Auror.
"I'm a klutz, not an idiot, Albus, I know that."
The old wizard nodded and heard his deputy's barely choked off snickering.
"Where is he then?" Remus asked.
Dawn was grabbing hold of the eastern sky. Remus and Tonks were on their brooms circling high above the Muggle compound. "Her automobile is not here," Tonks leaned slightly toward her companion as if whispering conspiratorially.
"You said it was rented from a service. Perhaps it's been returned, but that doesn't let us know if she's here or not." Remus replied with a worried frown. "You could morph into one of those guards and take his place and find out. If Severus is there, we can mount a rescue. Otherwise..." Otherwise they were still at a loss. His frown deepened.
But the young Auror was nodding at his plan. "Fine. You watch the Muggle and when I come back we can Obliviate him." She wrinkled her forehead. "Yeah, it should work." Hopefully.
They both knew there were a lot of things that could go wrong. But she was a witch after all. She'd never stoop to using the Imperius Curse, but Obliviate was something else entirely! She grinned and aimed her broom toward the wooded copse below, Remus only a fraction of a moment behind her.
The Muggle, of course, never knew what hit him. Well, not hit exactly. He was stopped by a dream, a vision, an angel. She had golden hair that fell down to perfectly formed shoulders of alabaster cream. Her tight jeans and tank top hid everything yet revealed every perfect curve. He hoped he wasn't drooling as he asked her how she'd got there, but he never got an answer...
Remus stood beside the sleeping guard, watching as his Doppelganger strode out of the woods toward the squat building, hitching up his trousers in that particular manner of certain somewhat uncouth men. The werewolf blushed, somewhat ashamed of his sex and the Metamorph's ability to mimic it so well. He glanced again at the muscular young guard happily dreaming at his feet and sighing, sat down nearby to pretend to wait patiently for his partner.
She was back far sooner than he expected. They sky still had that early dawn glimmer. He rose quickly at her hurried approach. As soon as she was near enough he recognized the look of frustration and worry in her face. "What happened?" He asked glancing behind her, worried that she was being chased.
"Nothing! They're not there! She absconded with him and her bosses are not happy!"
--
Margaret slowed the car and pulled of the paved roadway. Slowing even more, she maneuvered the vehicle into the woods before cutting off the engine and lights. She leaned back in the seat and turned her head to observe the dark haired silence in the passenger's seat. Snape. Her weapon. He didn't, wouldn't, move until she gave him an order to do so. She nodded to herself in satisfaction and got out of the car. She moved to the other side and wrenched open the passenger door, flicking on the portable mike. "Exit and stand," she ordered coldly.
Naturally he obeyed without thought. But now it was time for something a little more tricky. "Recall the name Snape," she ordered. "Recall the abode of that family." She paused, uncertain if this would work. Perhaps it would have been best to start with another name. But no, his own would be destroyed first. "You have been there. Recall it. Now..." She took hold of his forearm, "Take us there."
Margaret blinked and found her surroundings changed. As well, she felt a decidedly uncomfortable roiling in her gut and she winced at the discomfort. Snape, on the other hand, looked perfectly... Well, at ease would have been inaccurate. In any case, he did not seem at all discomfited by the mode of travel. "Make no sound. Stay still." She ordered. without a single doubt that he would obey, she turned away from him and tried to take in the night lit scenery.
They stood in a desolate forest of naked, seemingly dying trees. A small ancient building with several additions stood silently in an overgrown, weedy field. The stone building had been fine once, but clearly was not looked after any longer. Moonlight scattered on dust and grime ridden windows. The front door was half hidden behind ancient brambles that may have once been rose bushes. The whole place screamed of abandonment. Sellinger had no idea if this was illusory or reality, but which really did not matter at all to her.
She raised her arm and pointed to the once manor home of the family Snape. "Bring it down!" she commanded in a husky, lust filled voice.
Obediently the ruined wizard raised his wand and whispered some strange Latinate words. The building seemed at first to fall in on itself as if imploding. But barely a breath later remnants of stone, mortar, wood and glass flew outward with a horrendous clap of thunder. The wizard spoke another word and a magnificent fire erupted at the center of this destruction.
"Contain it!" Sellinger hissed. The last thing she wanted was a raging conflagration to summon firefighters and other unwanted authorities. She waited for his answering whispers and though the shooting flames did not die, they also did not spread to the surrounded flora. She turned her gaze from the fiery demise of his ancestral home in order to observe the expressionless visage of the tall man at her side.
So. He felt nothing. She would have him feel the loss later, at the end, when she was through with him. She would make him feel everything she had felt and more. But not yet. A weapon with emotions was a weapon with unnecessary weaknesses. She observed the destruction with a lust that only died as the flames themselves ran out of fuel. And then she noticed that the evening had progressed rather farther along than she had realized. And then she felt her own exhaustion, not unlike that of a one whose most ardent passions have been, at least for a short time, sated. She glanced at the wizard standing passively beside her. His face was more than blank, it was bland; emotionless. The flickering firelight bathed his ragged features with a peculiar mix of orange and red and deep dark shadows. He seemed -- no, he was unaware of the destruction wrought by his hand and unaware of the woman's scrutiny. His stance faltered and she thought he must have expended a great deal of energy, magical and physical.
But there was so much more to do. She grabbed the wizard's forearm again and this time hissed, "The Ministry for Magic! Now!"