Chapter 30 Impersonating the Wizard

"Must he answer the summons immediately, or does he have some time?" Holmes asked. "He's far too weak to stand up, little say travel to the Dark Lord's meeting place, wherever that may be." He looked over to Draco: "Did you receive a summons?"

Draco looked down at the inside of his forearm. His Dark Mark glowed faintly. "That's not a summons," he said. "You can't imagine how painful it is, when he wants you straightaway. I'm just new to the Death Eaters; I don't count much." He grimaced.

Headmaster Dumbledore downed a phial of the magic restoring potion, accepted a goblet of water from Neville, and drank it off in several large swallows. He flexed his hands, settled his cap more firmly on his head, and tucked the end of his beard into his belt. "First things first," he said. "There are ten phials of potion left; that will restore magic to ten Witches and Wizards. Then, we must prepare more of the potion. You have used the Law of Contagion; anyone who has taken the potion must contribute some of their blood, although not as much as Professor Snape. Each blood sample must be used for another batch, and so on. Several batches can be prepared at the same time. Longbottom, let me see: ah, yes, give the potion to Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey and her aides; that's five—"

"Miss Granger…" Snape interrupted him.

"Yes, yes, of course, Miss Granger, and if she is well enough, please ask her to come down to assist. There will be enough for four more doses; leave their distribution to Madam Pomfrey."

Longbottom nodded, put the phials carefully into a padded basket, and stepped into the Floo. "Infirmary!" he shouted, casting down a handful of powder and vanishing in a puff of green smoke and sparks.

"Draco, will you take charge of potions production until Professor Snape is recovered?" Albus Dumbledore put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Do you understand that by helping us you are acting counter to Voldemort's ambitions for you, as well as to your father's expectations?"

Draco looked down at the Mark, then up at the Headmaster's solemn face. "Yes," he said. "I understand." His mouth tightened. "I'm fed up of it. I was daft to take the Mark, in the hope that it would impress my father." He hunched his shoulders, shifted from foot to foot, paced a few steps and turned, rage on his face. "How stupid I was, to think that anythingI did would matter to him! I hate the way I am with him; I talk the way he does, I fucking stand the way he does; I turn into him, and for what? He despises me, he'll never respect me." He screwed up his face, looking for a moment exactly like his sire, and shouted, "He's a monster, and I won't be a monster to gain his favour! I don't give a shite if he disowns me; I'm done with him! Finished!" He sat down on a laboratory stool and hung his head.

Holmes walked over to Draco. "Draco," he said, and the boy raised a pain-filled face to him. "You have the right to live your life as you see fit. Many sons have monstrous fathers; drunkards, brutes, vicious criminals, even despots and dictators, and none of their sons need follow in their fathers' footsteps. You know, in your heart, what is right, and if you follow your heart you will live your life with honour."

A faint voice came from the couch: "Well said, Holmes. Language, Draco. You are not the first to realise a terrible mistake and seek to rectify it."

Draco slipped off his stool and ran to Severus Snape's side. He knelt by the couch. "Uncle Severus…" He put his head on the Potions Master's shoulder. Holmes glanced over to see Snape's pale hand rest on the boy's blond head.

"Now," said the Headmaster, turning to Snape, "let us see what we can do about this summons."

Snape drew a ragged breath. "I do not think I can go," he said. "Merlin help me if he drags me there; it will kill me."

Holmes perched his thin frame on a stool. "Why can I not go in your stead?" he asked. "We are of the same height and somewhat resemble each other."

Dumbledore looked at him sharply. "I think you may have something there, Mr Holmes," he said. "I can easily disguise you to look like Severus. How is your acting ability?"

For answer, Holmes stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked down over his nose at the headmaster. Snape's deep, oily voice issued from his mouth: "Indeed, Headmaster, I shall consider it a gross insult that you ask me such a dunderheaded question."

"Bravo!" Dumbledore clapped his hands delightedly. "We shall pull it off, shan't we? You understand, Mr Holmes, that this is a most dangerous undertaking?"

Holmes smiled. "I am no stranger to peril, Headmaster. Moreover, I am by nature observant; as a consulting detective, observation is one of my tools. I have observed Master Snape, of course. Carry on!" With that, he stalked across the laboratory, his robe billowing behind him, for all the world like the infamous overgrown bat known as Severus Snape.

A flash of green light and a voice issued from the hearth: "Headmaster, are you there?" Poppy Pomfrey's face was tight with concern.

"Yes, Poppy, what is it?"

"Miss Maura's gone. Miss Granger was asking for her; no-one's seen her since yesterday evening, and the House-Elves say she never returned to the dormitory, nor has she been seen since last night, when Nibby saw her going up to the Astronomy Tower with Jack Claymore." The back of Madam Pomfrey's head was visible as she turned to answer someone's question, then she turned back.

"Sister Brigit thinks she's in trouble; she says she's had dreams of her chained in a dungeon somewhere. Jack's one of the Druid priests, Brigit says he's hardly the one to take a girl to the Astronomy Tower." She turned around again.

Sister Brigit's red-haired head appeared next to Poppy Pomfrey's. "There's trouble. I bespoke Jack – he wasn't at Hogwarts last night at all, and he says there's somethin' unco brewin'. He's comin' to meet with Dame Angharad an' cast the runes."

Holmes hastened to Snape's side. "You mentioned the ability to read someone's thoughts, did you not? Can you read Miss McNicholas' mind, find out where she is?"

"Would that I could. But she is a Muggle, and it doesn't work with them." He considered. "Holmes, it is worth a try, when you are in Voldemort's lair provided you are still alive, of course to see if Miss McNicholas is held there."

Draco stood up. "If I wasn't needed to compound the potion, I'd go with you." He took off his outer robe and rolled up the sleeves of his jumper. "Truth to tell, I sniffed at learning Occlumency, and Voldemort sees through me like a pane of glass."

"No," said Snape. "You are needed here. Madam Pomfrey will draw the blood from the recovered Wizards. Longbottom will assist you, Draco, and Miss Granger as soon as she is able – as will I as soon as I can."

A muffled "Whoosh!" and a flash of powdery green announced the return of Neville Longbottom, carrying his basket of now empty potions phials. "It's working nicely!" he said, putting the basket on the laboratory worktable. "Professor McGonagall's recovered, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Flitwick as well..."

"And Miss Granger?" interrupted Severus Snape, attempting to sit up.

Neville turned to him. "Yes, sir, Miss Granger was the first. She's having a row with Madam Pomfrey just now; she wants to come down here and Madam Pomfrey says over her dead body, and so forth…" He looked at the antique clock on the laboratory wall. "Well, now, it's time for some more of your tonic, Professor Snape," he said.

Snape closed his eyes wearily. "Bring it over," he said. Whilst Neville administered Snape's tonic, Albus Dumbledore sent a House-Elf for Severus Snape's Death Eater robes and mask and a pair of his boots.

Snape made a terrible face, and accepted a goblet of water from Longbottom. "I can sit up a bit more," he said, and Neville propped him with a large cushion. "Holmes, come here. I must school you quickly; this is a role you must play without fault. Can you do it?"

A smirk played about Holmes' lips. "Indeed, my dear Snape, I have played many more complex roles. Tell me about your usual behaviour at the convocations of the Death Eaters, and I shall not only impersonate you, I shall be you as long as the Dark Lord does not require me to do magic."

"No, no, he will not ask you to perform magic. I am more or less inconspicuous at Death Eater meetings, and it is known that I do not participate in Dark Revels." Holmes' eyebrow lifted; he had heard about what took place during Dark Revels, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"These are the Unforgivables; I shall tell you what you must do if he strikes you with any of them," and Snape proceeded to tell Holmes about the effects of Stupefy and Cruciatus, even Avada Kedavra.

"If he thinks he has killed me, I shall hold my breath and slow my pulse," stated Holmes. "During my own Dark years, I lived with the Tanjin monks in Tibet, and learned many useful methods of dominion over the body." They conversed for a few minutes more, then the Headmaster motioned to Holmes to don Snape's robes, mask and boots.

"Well, Headmaster," said Holmes, "I am ready." Albus Dumbledore raised his hands and walked three times around Holmes, chanting incantations. Wandless magic, thought Holmes. He felt his face shifting slightly; his scalp itched, and then, he felt heat and itching on the inside of his forearm. He pushed back the sleeve; there was the Dark Mark, pulsating with a green fluorescence. He put his hand to his head; his hair hung about his neck and felt oily.

Holmes strode over to Snape's couch. "Well? How do I look?" He pulled the robe's hood up over his head. In his hand he held the Death Eater's mask.

Snape grimaced. "Ugly," he said. "By the nineteen minions of Hermes Trismegistus, I have not seen a fouler Death Eater than you."