Title: Come What May

Author: DuchessAndromeda

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I own everything, because I am the Ruler of the World.  What? Didn't you know that?  Well, I am.  At least, of the world inside my mind… And I guess that since HP and Gang exist outside my mind, that I don't really own them either.  The lyrics at the end are from 'Flag Pole Sitta' which is a very interesting song.

Authors Notes:  Thanks be to all my wonderful reviewers.  Becca, I'm really not trying to make you cry… Golden Essence, well, JKR did write them originally as children's books.  Who know what she would have added if they were meant for adults?  Moo thanks for the review.  I have to wait for Harry to awaken before TLC really gets going tho… Wiccan PussyKat, my wonderful beta and friend.  I'm sorry I didn't tell you it was my b-day, but I didn't really tell anyone else, either.  Thundering Lights, someone is watching me? Maybe that's what influenced the title of this chapter… Nemati, thank you for the compliments.  I would make the scenes longer, but my muse protests.  But then, my muse is possessed right now anyway… and Athenakitty, Moody always spooks someone.  He enjoys it.  As for the rest, well, you'll just have to wait and see.

On with the show!

~Chapter 6~

Severus Snape was struggling with his conscience. His conscience that sounding frighteningly similar to James Potter. In fact, if Severus hadn't known any better, he would have thought it was the dead man's way of haunting him. But that was even more insane than arguing with himself when the child that he swore to protect, swore to Lily, was lying in the Headmaster's arms, bloodied hair against the formerly pristine white of the old man's beard.

"Look at him, Snape! That child is dying and you have the power to save him!"

"It's too risky; it could contradict the effects of the potions, making him worse instead of better."

"Like a little risk has ever stopped you before. And this is his only hope! If you don't do this, he will die anyway, and then you'll never get a chance to know him, to see what made the great Dumbledore into someone that was human, what makes Poppy act so over-protective, and why Molly, who has seven children of her own, acts as if the world were ending. You have no choice!"

"I have no choice." That decided, Severus moved a little bit away from where Poppy and McGonagall were fussing over Potter. Just far enough away to pick up one of the knives that the foolish muggle had been using sometime earlier in the evening. He spelled it clean, rolled up one of his long black sleeves to reveal the pale skin underneath, already adorned with scars, and brought the blade across it in a elongated, shallow stroke.

Red blood welled up from the parted flesh, moving as if eager to be used for its owners intended purpose. Someone outside the house who had been paying attention screamed something about a suicide. The aurors and muggle police increased their struggle to contain the crowd and a few spared him a glace. Most of the Aurors had either had him as a teacher, or knew of him from one who had. They knew that what he was doing had to be something to do with potions, and the muggle police who didn't know of him were too busy trying to figure out what else was going on to really try to talk him out of "killing" himself.

One handed, Severus carefully unstopped a few of the more powerful healing and blood replenishing potions and set them down nearby. One by one, he raised them to his arm to catch the flow of life that refused to still. After they all had some amount of his blood in them, he spelled the cut closed and re-stopped the potions to swirl the blood, making it into a homogenous mixture. Silently, he moved back over to Poppy and handed the new potions to her. She used the first few without a second thought, but about the fourth one she noticed the slight discoloration and change in texture.

"Severus? What exactly is this?"

"A healing potion, Poppy. I thought that you would know what one looked like by now."

"I do know what they look like, and it isn't like this. There is only one potion powerful enough to even attempt what this one is doing is a completely different color."

"And I've administered enough potions in my time to remember that the normal healing potions are not of this consistency," McGonagall added. Severus hesitated before explaining what he had done.

"With most charms and potions, part of the power to change or heal a person comes from the caster, and the rest comes from the one it is administered to. My belief is that by adding blood to a potion, it would increase the drain on the makers magic, instead of on the drinkers. There was a slight risk, but…"

"No more than not taking it, in this case," Poppy finished for him. "Well, it does seem to be working, much more than the others were. The only question I have left, is if this is going to leave me with two patients instead of just one. How much magic does it take from you?"

"A trivial amount, mainly what was in the blood itself. When combined with the other ingredients, and Potter's own blood, it should act as a catalyst, enabling less magic to perform the same job as a lot of magic." Poppy looked at him suspiciously, but McGonagall called her attention back to the boy. The Headmaster wasn't paying attention to the others, just murmuring softly to his child.

~~~

Up the stairs in number four Privet Drive, there existed four bedrooms. Moody looked at them, surveying them with his magical eye to see which one to check first. The first was easily discarded, as he remembered it being Harry's when they had come to pick him up last year. The second was just as easily forgotten as it had nothing of value, the walls of this guest room covered in garish flowers that clashed with the bedspread. The third door looked more promising, the look inside showing a lot of broken muggle gadgets and a bed containing a great whale of… person... that had to be Harry's cousin Dudley.

Deciding that this was a good a place as any to start, Moody clomped his way to Dudley's door. It was locked, but a quick Alohamora fixed that. The first thing that he noticed upon opening the door was a musty scent that he usually associated with rooms long left unused and unaired. There was a faint undercurrent of sweat, mold, and urine in

the room, they type that he usually only found in Azkaban and torture cells.

He picked his way through the discarded possessions of the enormous child and made his way to its bedside. He wasn't making any effort to be quiet, but the person on the bed never stirred.

Half-way there, Moody hesitated. Something was Not Right. His senses were screaming at him that this was a trap. Normally, he would have been already casting curses left and right, but this, this was a special case. He stood completely still in the middle of the floor and quieted his breathing, listening. It was then that he realized exactly why his senses were telling him it was a trap.

Dudley Dursely wasn't breathing.

Somewhere, someone began to scream.

~~~

Outside the house, Ron and Hermione stood with the other Order Members who had resisted all attempts to group them with the others. They were still completely silent, while the chaos bubbled and churned around them.

Hermione was shaking with a cold fury, her magic sparking around her clenched fists. For the first time in many years, she was losing control of that which made her a witch, and under any other circumstances, she would have been terrified.

As it was, she was only mildly disturbed, but that quickly changed as Something approached. She felt the wards surrounding the house, heard their keening as some sort of pressure was placed upon them. It grew worse, and she covered her ears and screamed as the pressure and volume increased, her magic careening out of control, and increasing the pressure which caused a feed-back loop of dangerous proportions.

She felt hands on her shoulders and looked to see Ron in front of her, shaking her, moving his lips to ask her something. She couldn't hear and didn't understand why he wasn't feeling this too. Abruptly, the wards broke, and the pressure stopped. Despite the relief this gave her, she still knew that this was a Very Bad Thing.

"The wards are down!" She screamed, and the Aurors nearby began checking to see if that was indeed true.

But they were too slow.

Overhead, a large bird circled slowly and ominously, coming ever closer to the house and its occupants. Spells were fired in an attempt to bring it down, but nothing seemed to phase it. As it drew nearer, some recognized it as a Vulture. Closer still, and they realized that it had some sort of carrion in its beak. When it landed in the circle of light, those closest to it took an unconscious step back.

Not only was this non-native bird bearing carrion, it apparently was one as well. One of it's eyes was hanging out of it's socket, and as it moved it dropped bits of flesh. It waddled over to Hermione, attracted by the sparks of colour she was still shooting out, and dropped its cargo at her feet.

A rat with a silver paw.

~~~

"Hermione, is that…" Ron started, looking at the body of his former familiar that was actually Peter Pettigrew in disguise.

"I… I think it is, Ron." Hermione stared at it, fascinated. She could almost see where the silver joined with human flesh and wouldn't it be interesting to be able to perform, and undo, that spell herself? Then, the decaying scavenger bird opened its mouth, and they realized why it was this bird bringing them the rat.

"Hello friends of Potter. I was wondering when you were going to put two and two together, and realize that Harry's case made more than four. It really wasn't all that difficult to see, if you actually took the time.

"And I find myself with plenty of time these days. There are only so many plans that can be made in advance, the rest depend on your opponents move. Isn't that right, Ron? I understand that you are quite the strategist. I might be able to find a use for you, if you realize your mistake, after all.

"Don't you see yet? Your hero is nothing more than a broken child. Not one worth fighting me." A hair-raising, shrill voice came from the vulture's beak.

"How…" Ron started, before the avian cut him off.

"- Is this possible? Re-animation spells are wonderful things, you know. And Imperio can be quite persuasive, especially on Muggles. Did you know that you can enchant an object to place a compulsion on something, even if you're not there yourself? Ah, the wonders of the Dark Arts, and you wonder why I enjoy them so. It really was just too simple. Foolish Dumbledore...you never did quite understand blood magic, even if you did base Potter's wards on them. It all depended on mutual acceptance, and on Harry's being able to call this place home."

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her heart pounding in her ears. She had never heard that voice before, but she knew that there was only one person it could belong to...

"But Harry is more like me that Dumbledore likes to think about. The place we return to in the summer was never our home, that was Hogwarts, where the magic lay. Poor, poor child. It didn't take all that much to break him either, did it?. A vision here, a beating there... it was all just too easy.

"You might want to warn that Headmaster of yours, if you can, of course. But then, you are too late anyway. Your precious boy-wonder will be dead within the hour. Toodles." The zombie fell over, now just a pile of flesh and bone. Feeling slightly sick, Hermione bent shakily and picked up the rat by its tail, examining it.

"Well, the bad news is that he's still breathing. The good news is that maybe now Sirius can be cleared, even posthumously." Ron nodded, and by unspoken agreement, they both turned and for the first time that evening, headed inside the house. Hermione slipped the stunned animagus into a pocket, and began to hum a little tune that she had heard a while ago.

"Oh, I'm not sick but I'm not well

But that just fine

Cause I'm in Hell…"