Chapter 31 The Death Eaters' Convocation

"You might as well let me go," Maura panted. Malfoy had Apparated them both back to his Manor, and she was still slightly queasy. Lucius Malfoy's long legs propelled them swiftly down a long corridor, and she was hard pressed to keep up. "At least untie my feet if you're going to run!" Malfoy stopped in front of a heavy door, which swung open at a wave of his hand.

"You embarrassed me in front of Lord Voldemort," he gritted, his face twisted with fury. "You'll be punished, mark my words, girl. I must return to the convocation, but never fear; I will be back and deal with you!" He pushed her into the room and the door slammed shut.

One by one, the Death Eaters Apparated into the dank cavern with its central throne. As each appeared, he approached the being on the throne, sank to his knees and did obeisance, and kissed the hem of his robe, then scuttled backwards.

Lucius knelt in front of the Dark Lord and humbly prostrated himself. "I beg pardon, my lord, for the unruly Muggle. She will be disposed of shortly."

Voldemort's flat, reptilian head swivelled in his direction. "See that it is so," he breathed.

"Gather round me, my faithful." Black robes swished; silver masks gleamed in the torchlight as the Death Eaters moved inwards towards the throne.

Malfoy looked around him: Goyle Senior, Rodolphus Lestrange (where was Bellatrix?), Parkinson, Snape and about sixteen others. Not a full coven, but enough to satisfy Lord Voldemort.

"My dears, the time is upon us," hissed the Dark Lord. "Hogwarts is ours. There is no magic left there; we have only to enter and take possession of the Castle. Each of you will ensure that your brethren and close friends are ready. We will strike soon, but," and here his serpent's tongue flicked the air, "I shall call you to come to me. It would not do," he whispered, "to have news of our conquest leak out. Go now, and make all ready."

Snape nodded to Lucius as they walked towards the door. "Severusssss!" Voldemort called him back, and he turned and re-entered the throne chamber.

"My lord?"

"Lucius tells me that you have been working with a Muggle scientist named Holmes. What is that all about?"

Snape took off his mask and looked straight at Voldemort. "It is of little consequence, my lord. We have found a medicine to minimise the symptoms of the influenza, the coughing and fever and so forth. He is only a Muggle; he knows nothing."

"Send him back where he came from. He is not needed; I like it not that he is about, whether he is real or fictitious. Get rid of him."

"My lord, magic does not work on him; I've tried it several times."

"So kill him."

"My lord, he is of little account, he will be returning to his own city shortly."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed to slits. He leaned forward. 'It is always your way to dispute my orders, Severussss. You never learn, foolish boy. Crucio!" Snape cried out and fell to the floor, writhing, gasping. Voldemort let him suffer for a while, and then lost interest. "Leave me."

Snape crawled out of the throne room and, holding on to the walls, made his way out of the tunnel that led to Voldemort's lair. He managed to stand up, leaning against a tree. He wrapped his cloak about himself, preparing to Apparate, and bang! The air rushed in where he had stood.

Air rushed out of the anteroom to the laboratory as Holmes, holding on to his Portkey for dear life, appeared in front of Snape, Draco, Neville and the Headmaster.

He dropped the cloak off his shoulders and shook himself. "I could stand a bath and a stiff drink," he remarked.

Snape was sitting up in an armchair, looking somewhat restored. "Well, Holmes? I see you're still with us; how did you fare?"

Holmes looked to Dumbledore. "If you please, Headmaster…"

"Oh, yes, certainly!" The Headmaster passed his hands over Holmes' head, and the bogus Snape was instantly replaced by Sherlock Holmes in his own quite solid flesh.

"It was as you said, he barely acknowledged me, other than to ask me to get rid of myself," Holmes smirked. "He cast Cruciatus upon me, and if I say so, I gave him his curse's worth." The red paste he had smeared on his face and hands to simulate bruises looked all too real. "I secreted a pot of theatrical rouge in my pocket, and managed to apply it whilst I was writhing and screaming."

He looked around. "Voldemort is ready to attack Hogwarts. He will not tell the Death Eaters in advance when the attack is to be; he will notify us when he is ready. I suggest that we prepare without delay."

Dumbledore stood up, stretching his stiff back. "The students and faculty of Hogwarts will be ready for an all-out war. Those who are too weak to participate will be taken to safety. Most of us are who have taken the cure serum have limited magic; we can't cast an Unforgivable, but we can use a variety of other charms. We outnumber the Death Eaters, so there's some hope we can defend ourselves."

"The physically stronger students can wield a staff," stated Snape. "Headmaster, you have Godric Gryffindor's sword; I trust you practise with it now and then." Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Hagrid can crack heads with his bare handsand Filch can throw anything with killing force and hit the target."

The Headmaster chuckled. 'Poppy Pomfrey's all for boiling oil, but will settle for stinging nettle spray. Minerva's Animagus form isn't much use in a hand to hand battle, but as a Witch, she's deadly with a skean dhu,"

Holmes paced back and forth in front of the laboratory worktable. "I'm concerned about Miss McNicholas," he said. "I prowled about after I got out of Voldemort's cave, but couldn't find any place where she could have been hidden. I suspect that she's been taken elsewhere." He stopped, turned suddenly. "Lucius Malfoy was a bit late to the convocation, came in mumbling something about a 'damned Muggle." He looked at Snape. "Why would he have taken her?"

"I know why." All eyes turned to Draco Malfoy. He lowered the heat under the cauldron he had been stirring. "He wasn't interested in you, Mr Holmes, when I came running to him with the news that you were working with Uncle Severus."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Continue," he said.

"My father was quite interested in Miss McNicholas. I told him that you (here, he nodded at Holmes) had taken some blood from her." He paused. "My father's an animal," he said quietly. "Mention 'female' and he has to exercise his dominion." He looked up. "My guess is that he took her to the Manor, with the usual amusement in mind, and probably intended to wring some information out of her as well."

Holmes put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "We do not 'guess,' Draco; that is amateurish and will lead you astray. You may deduce, from your father's typical behaviour, that he abducted Miss McNicholas for his own entertainment. Never guess."

"If she's there, she won't be able to get out by herself, "Draco said. He looked at Snape. "You're not well enough to help her."

The Headmaster held up his hand. "It's been rather a while since I've rescued a damsel in distress, but I believe I can give it a go." He turned to Snape and Holmes: "You have been working on a special potion, I believe; one which will turn the virulence of the influenza on its creator."

"Yes," said the Potions Master. "I have worked out the scrip, and it has only to be compounded. " He drew himself up to a straight sitting position. "I believe I am recovered enough to prepare it, with Draco's assistance. We must devise a way to administer it to Voldemort."

A sardonic smile spread over the Great Detective's lips. "You have told me, Snape, that Voldemort will go into battle surrounded by a phalanx of Death Eaters. Excellent! Severus Snape will doubtless be one of those closest to the monster; the Snape that is not affected by Unforgivable curses, that is. "

A similar smile stole over Severus Snape's countenance. "Then there will be two Snapes there, Holmes."

Albus Dumbledore took a handful of Floo powder from the box on the mantel. "Wish me good fortune, all!" he cried, and disappeared in a billow of spark-filled green smoke.

Holmes looked after him. "Imagine, at his age, riding off to rescue a fair lady."

Snape looked askance at him. "And why should age limit him? He's a Wizard; he is about one hundred sixty years old, and according to Minerva, as sprightly as a young goat." He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked sourly at Holmes.

Holmes cocked an eyebrow at the Potions Master. "Indeed, Snape, why should age limit anyone? Where there is a will, there is a way." Holmes rubbed his hands together briskly. "Come, Snape, we have a potion to prepare whilst the Headmaster is off on his knightly errand."