A/N: Woo hoo!!!! This point marks new ground in this fic – back when I wrote the original version (before OotP came along and shot a big canon-ball through my plot), the last words posted were "but they had his best interest in mind." And that was the end of the old chapter 6! This is new stuff, baby!
Up From the Dust
Chapter 5
Explanations, Returns, and Potions
Harry Potter entered the Great Hall hesitantly. He had spent the morning in Dumbledore's office, uncomfortably relating the events of the previous night. All around him, students chattered loudly, but only a few Gryffindors looked over at the green-eyed seventeen-year-old entering the hall.
Relieved that his already questionable reputation as "crazy" hadn't been further damaged by his little outburst the previous night, Harry headed toward the Gryffindor table, where Ron and Hermione were chattering happily.
Walking behind them, Harry quietly made his way to his two best friends, waiting for the perfect moment to announce himself. It came soon enough: Hermione whispered something to Ron and both looked over to the staff table, giggling.
"HI!"
Ron responded by throwing his spoon into the air; it landed on the floor on the other side of the table. Hermione sat bolt upright, then both jumped up and hugged Harry like he had just come back from the dead.
"Harry!" cried Hermione, a grin spreading over her face. "You're all right!"
"Yeah," said Harry, taking the offered seat between the two. "Madam Pomfrey couldn't find anything wrong with me, so she had to let me go. Besides, I'm fine, except for the fact that I feel like a complete idiot. Did I really wake up all of Gryffindor Tower?"
"Well, not everyone. Maybe half. Or three-quarters," said Ron, smiling. Then, more soberly, and in a quieter voice: "What happened, Harry? We were really worried about you."
The carefree look vanished from Harry's face. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask me that," he said, suddenly looking tired. "But I suppose I'd be telling you anyway."
Harry quickly filled his friends in on the visions he'd had last night. "It was awful!" he exclaimed. "Who would kill their own parents?"
"You-Know-Who did," said Ron quietly.
"Well," said Harry, "I recognized her. She's the one who came in here on Saturday and cursed us all. And…" He trailed off, looking down at the table.
"What is it? You know you can tell us anything," said Hermione.
Harry ushered them closer, so that their heads were practically touching.
"Last night, I saw Voldemort-" Ron winced at the name, "performing some kind of ritual with the same woman. A…" he squirmed a bit. "A sexual ritual. I saw the whole thing… they were back in the cemetery where he was resurrected, inside a ring of fire, with all the Death Eaters surrounding the circle. There was a lot of Dark magic in the air… I guess that's why my scar was hurting me so much."
Hermione looked like she had just been handed an extra research project: it was almost possible to hear the gears turning in her head. She frowned in thought for a moment, then looked up at the two boys.
"For it to have such an effect on you, it would have had to be some very powerful magic, Harry. You said that you saw her reborn, and that she killed an American witch named Monica and her husband. I'm willing to bet the date of her birth is sometime during our fifth year, and that their deaths are listed in the American government's records. It seems that she and… You-Know-Who… performed a Simul Mortis curse."
Ron and Harry shot blank looks at their bookish friend.
"Honestly! We spent a whole class on them in Defense Against the Dark Arts last year!"
The blank looks continued.
Hermione sighed. "The Simul Mortis curse is a Dark spell that causes the victim to die at the same moment as the caster, no matter what the cause. It is usually used when a witch or wizard feels that another person wants to kill them; it's a type of pre-emptive strike, you see."
Ron and Harry were silent.
"Because if someone casts the curse on you, killing them would be suicide."
"Oh," said the boys in unison.
"Anyway," continued Hermione, "It looks like this woman had the spell cast on her by You-Know-Who and was reduced to the same non-corporeal form as he was when he fell in 1981. I suppose it could be seen as some type of loyalty, to volunteer to have him cast the curse on you."
Harry was silent, the pieces of his visions and the events of Saturday falling into place. After a few seconds, he spoke.
"She was really powerful… I don't think many people could have survived that ritual. You don't think she's some kind of female Voldemort, do you?"
Hermione looked slightly ill at the prospect. "I surely hope not, Harry."
Just then, a loud slam from the direction of the students' entrance echoed throughout the Great Hall. Ron, Harry and Hermione turned their heads just in time to see an irate Professor Snape push the doors open hard enough for them to slam against the walls on either side of the entrance. He strode through the hall, looking extremely harassed, marching between the student tables with enough speed to send his black cloak and hair flying behind him.
He stopped in front of the staff table long enough to say something to the Headmaster. Dumbledore nodded and stood, walking toward the staff entrance to the hall. Snape grabbed the older man's untouched coffee cup and followed him out.
"Wonder what that was all about?" asked Ron, taking a bite of his half-finished lunch. "He looks like he'll be fun in Potions this afternoon."
"Maybe Professor Flitwick will teach it again," said Harry, looking hopeful but doubtful.
Hermione was the only one of the three, and perhaps the entire Gryffindor table, who wasn't extremely unhappy with Snape's reappearance.
"At least he looks healthy," she said. After all, Snape's last exit from the Great Hall had been under much worse circumstances.
- - - -
"I swear, if I have to hear how wonderful their son is, or how damned expensive their mansion is, or how loyal to the Dark Lord they are one more time…. I'll KILL one of them!"
Somewhere inside, Severus Snape was enjoying the opportunity to have a good tirade in Albus Dumbledore's office, although for the moment fury was clouding that enjoyment. In the past three days he'd been cursed, thrown into a wall at thirty miles per hour, humiliated in front of Madam Pomfrey, forced to take a Dizziness potion, exposed to more Dark magic than was necessarily healthy, threatened by Lucius Malfoy, locked in a bedroom by Lucius Malfoy, and subjected to over an hour of bragging by Lucius Malfoy and his snotty wife. The fact that the only thing that could remotely be classified as "food" he'd had that day was six or seven cups of coffee wasn't making him any calmer, and he swept around the office at breakneck speed, robes swirling around him.
"Severus, you are making me dizzy. Sit down and tell me what happened."
Abruptly, Snape plunked into the chair across the desk from Dumbledore, propping his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists. His slouch was uncharacteristic.
"You know, Severus, we were very worried about you when you left last night. Poppy says she heard you summoning your mask on the way out of the Hospital Wing, and a hastily scribbled note sent from Malfoy Manor of all places… well, it wasn't exactly reassuring." Severus belatedly recognized the look on Dumbledore's face: the old man had probably gotten less sleep than Severus the night before.
If one of his students had been present, he or she would have been truly amazed at the immediate change in their Potions master. Chastised by Dumbledore's mild but worry-laden words, the usually cruelly confident and upright man squirmed uncomfortably and began examining the suddenly interesting contours of his fingernails.
"I'm sorry, Albus," said Snape, sounding agitated. "I had a very brief window of opportunity! You know that I was as good as exposed as a spy by my behavior on Saturday – that's why you had Poppy try to keep me here. But you know as well as I do that you've never been able to get another spy within the Death Eaters!" Abandoning his fingernails, he sprang up out of his chair to resume pacing.
"Besides, it was a good thing I went," he continued. "Upon arriving at the meeting last night I was confronted with a most unpleasant discovery." His robes swirled and his boots clicked loudly on the floor as he spun around and began walking from the window to the other end of the office.
"The Dark Lord and… my wife performed a very ancient Dark ritual last night, Albus. I'm sure it will come as no surprise that she's no longer the virginal ice princess I lived with for two years." His bitter grimace was accompanied by the swishing sound of his robes as he turned around and paced back to the other end of the room.
"The rest of the Death Eaters were present as well. I suppose the Dark Lord was leeching the magic from them in order to complete the ritual. I assume he wants to conceive an heir.
"I dragged Malfoy away from the circle with little difficulty. It seems that my… colleagues have been instructed to capture me and bring me to the Dark Lord." Snape halted in front of Dumbledore's desk, leaning over the structure to look at the Headmaster directly.
"I convinced Malfoy, the jealous fool, that I was still loyal, and that I had been protecting my position as a spy. He's always been the Dark Lord's lapdog. I should be safely back within the fold in a few days, once Lucius has had a chance to talk to the Dark Lord."
Dumbledore looked extremely skeptical. Talk? To Voldemort?
"I'll be able to find out their plans for the heir. A child conceived during such a ritual will no doubt be even more powerful than either parent, Albus. We need to keep our eyes open."
The old man sighed. "Severus, I'm well aware of the importance of your position. During the past two and a half years, you've undoubtedly saved many lives… I'd just prefer to preserve yours as well."
"I'll try to remain breathing as long as possible," replied Snape, deadpan. In as much time as it took for him to utter that sentence, he was gone, leaving only a slight breeze from the slamming of the door.
- - - -
Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Potions classroom to be met with mild disapproval from, of all people, Madam Pomfrey. A quick glance at the clock told them that they were three minutes late to Advanced Potions and Madam Pomfrey had already begun outlining Snape's lesson for the day. The seventh-year Slytherins snickered quietly, only to be given a stern look from the non-partisan Pomfrey, a former Hufflepuff.
"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," muttered the three, as they made their way sheepishly to their seats. They had been so engrossed in their lunchtime conversation that they had lost track of time, barely managing to run back to their dormitories and grab their Potions supplies before racing down to the dungeons, trailing a cackling Peeves and earning a disapproving shout from Filch as they flew past him.
A brief look of concern passed over Pomfrey's face as she looked at Harry, but it was quickly replaced with one of stern practicality. She skimmed over Snape's lesson plans, held in front of her, as she started her introduction again.
It was clear from her manner that she had been dragged down to the dungeons as a substitute at the very last minute; Snape had probably been scheduled to teach his own class before he'd disappeared the night before, and it was doubtful that Madam Pomfrey had even read the lesson plan beforehand.
"As I was saying, we will be continuing the work you started with Professors Snape and Flitwick. First, we will continue to brew the antidote you began yesterday. Once everyone's cauldron has reached the next extended simmering phase, I will…"
At this, she abruptly broke off, staring a bit disconcertedly at the sheet of parchment in front of her. She definitely hadn't read the lesson plan beforehand.
"Well… before everyone starts, I'll go find some mice for the demonstration that Professor Snape has planned." This brought about a few interested looks, residing mostly on the faces of the Slytherins, Ravenclaws, and Hermione, of course.
"Please don't begin until I've returned," said Madam Pomfrey, walking toward the exit. A second after she left, the sound of bodies colliding carried into the classroom, closely followed by a grunt and the sound of glassware clunking, but not breaking, on the floor.
"Poppy!" said the unmistakably sour voice of Hogwarts's genuine Potions professor. "Do you need to be reeducated on the topic of looking in front of you when you walk?"
"Hardly," came the reply from Madam Pomfrey. "If I'm not mistaken, you were looking at the flask in your hand when I came into your path."
Snape snorted. There was a rustling in the hallway as the professor and the mediwitch returned to their feet.
"Well," said Madam Pomfrey, "At least you're looking healthy, if not less unpleasant."
"I wasn't aware that a pink aura of happiness was a prerequisite for the job. Running away from the Gryffindor brats, are you?"
"Of course not! I mean- none of the students are brats, Severus!" Madam Pomfrey was beginning to sound flustered. "I was on my way to fetch some mice for the monstrous demonstration you had planned for this class!"
"I've been doing this demonstration for over ten years, Poppy, and you've never had to treat a student as a result of it. Kindly refrain from sticking your overprotective nose into my lesson plans if you do not intend to adhere to them."
"Hmph!" Madam Pomfrey's footsteps receded down the hallway.
The eavesdropping students rapidly straightened and looked toward the front of the classroom as Professor Snape swept into the room, looking only fractionally less annoyed than he had upon entering the Great Hall earlier. He carried a large, corked flask with what looked like several ounces of ink in it, and there was the unmistakable glint of a gold band on his left ring finger.
Harry leaned over to whisper to Hermione.
"Since when has Snape worn a wedding ring?"
"Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for your insipid gossiping! Now if you are finished conveying to your contemporaries whatever incredibly important piece of information you felt couldn't wait until after class, kindly face the front of the classroom and pay attention!"
"But- sir! You haven't even started the lesson!"
"Ten more for your insolence!" As if to emphasize the point, Snape banged the flask on the desk. The inky liquid sloshed within, further coating the sides of the undoubtedly shatterproof container.
Harry and his friends snapped to attention.
- - - -
The lesson passed under a blanket of tense silence. At the slightest sound of a voice that he had not authorized to speak, Severus would summarily remove points from that individual. Although the Slytherin students were usually less cautious than the members of the other houses, by the time every student's cauldron was placidly simmering the combined point deficit of all four houses was approaching one hundred fifty, with nearly fifty coming from the irate Professor's own house.
Finally, Severus broke the silence. All it took was a short clearing of the throat on the part of Snape to cause half the class to jump. He stalked forward from the rear of the room, where he had been indulging his sadistic side by hovering over a shy Hufflepuff for nearly five minutes, waiting for the poor, intimidated teenager to make an error.
So far, the day had not been friendly to Severus Snape. In addition to being harassed by Lucius Malfoy and subtly guilt-tripped by Albus Dumbledore, he had, upon making his way to this particular Potions class, remembered that his wife's return from death had once again made him a married man. The ring that he'd fished from the bottom of a box that had been purposefully buried under a dozen others in the very back of his closet now felt like a lead manacle as it sat, supposedly innocently, on his left ring finger.
His self-consciousness at wearing such a noticeable reminder of his past and present ties, mixed with the annoyance, worry, and stress he'd been feeling in various degrees for the last few days, was making him extremely unfriendly. For a man for whom "friendly" meant "not overtly insulting," that was saying a lot.
At least he could take some sadistic pleasure in today's "demonstration." After all, it was not every day that one got to poison a lot of insolent students with impunity.
"I doubt that any of you really appreciates the true beauty of the specialized poison antidotes you will be working on for the next several classes. However, I do believe that you will be quite interested in the more vulgar, yet apparently more powerful workings of a generalized antidote you've probably forgotten my mention of from your first year."
He waved the flask to emphasize his point.
"Does anyone know what is in this?" he asked contemptuously. Hermione Granger's hand shot into the air, all alone.
"Anyone?" asked Severus, purposefully ignoring Granger. "Mister Malfoy?"
"It looks like watered-down ink, sir," said Malfoy with a smirk. The little brat assumed that Snape wouldn't dare criticize him.
"Mister Malfoy. If you believe that the substance in this flask is ink, I invite you to take a drink from your inkwell after I poison you."
A murmur went through the classroom.
"Does anyone else have a theory?" He sighed as the lone hand began to wave back and forth. "Miss Granger?"
"It's the Bezoar Restorative Draught, used to cure most poisons, even those that would otherwise be deadly," she recited.
"Precisely. I see that you've been sacrificing your social life for books again." He ignored Granger's indignant expression and continued. "Yes, this is indeed the Bezoar Restorative Draught, and I will be demonstrating its effectiveness today by giving each of you a different poison, as well as a dose of the restorative."
The murmur began to take on a mutinous sound. It wasn't improving the Potions Master's mood.
"Silence!" Severus snapped. "Not only do I have the permission of the Headmaster to undertake this little exercise… but I will also be taking part in the demonstration." He began pulling small vials out of his interior pockets, each labeled in careful writing. The last vial, containing a liquid that looked unnervingly like blood, he placed far from the others. "The poison I will personally be demonstrating is ordinarily lethal. The others vary in annoyance, but should anyone decide to imbibe ink instead, he or she will merely spend the evening with Madam Pomfrey."
Severus handed out the vials, one to each student. He gave an emetic to Potter, a blindness-inducing poison to Granger, and a paralytic to Weasley. He gave Malfoy a particularly nasty disfiguring potion. In the vial on his desk sat a powerful bleeding draught with which he intended to thoroughly disturb the class. He then distributed small cups of the restorative potion.
Although Severus would be unlikely to admit it, he did posses a certain penchant for dramatics. As he uncorked the poison on his desk and held it out in front of him, the entire class watched with morbid fascination.
Perhaps I will take Poppy's advice after all, he thought, transfiguring, with well-disguised effort, a spare quill from his desk into a small gray mouse. He held the mouse in his left hand, while his right dangled the red poison in front of his students.
"This," he said smoothly, "is Tobt's Bleeding Draught." One of the Ravenclaws whispered to her neighbor.
"…Also known by its more vulgar nickname of 'Tobt's Toilet-Paper Tipple.' Five points from Ravenclaw for your tittering, Brocklehurst. Within fifteen minutes of consumption, the drinker dies from massive bleeding, caused by vascular breakdown and a trademark weakening of the skin. Our little friend here," he sneered at the mouse in his hand, "shall serve to demonstrate the potion's lethality."
Using a medicine dropper procured from a desk drawer, Severus fed the unsuspecting creature a tiny amount of the poison and placed it on his desk. Most of the students looked either horrified or scandalized by his treatment of the newly alive, soon-to-be-dead creature. Several others, however, looked quite interested. Granger's face seemed to hover in between.
The mouse scurried about for a minute before becoming lethargic and lying down. It took two more minutes before its rapid, tiny pulse and breathing halted.
"It is less effective on human beings, therefore increasing the time between consumption and death. However, I assure you that it is just as deadly to me as it is to our departed mouse." The silence of the room, as well as the demonstration, was somewhat improving Severus's mood. Smirking inwardly, he swallowed the contents of the vial. Several of his Slytherin students gasped. He began to pace in front of his desk, lecturing as he went.
"Let me remind you, that the sooner you take the restorative, the less damage the poison will do to you. A bezoar will only cure poison; it will not repair damage."
A whispering sound from the front row interrupted Severus's speech. He could guess the source.
"Malfoy!" he snapped, slamming his hand down on the boy's table. The motion split the skin of his hand in several places, leaving a bloody handprint in front of Malfoy.
Snape held his bloody hand palm-up in front of Malfoy. "Is that going to go away when I take the restorative?" he asked threateningly. Malfoy had the good sense to look threatened.
"No sir," he said quietly.
"At least you've been paying attention to something," he growled, hurriedly downing his portion of the antidote. He turned his attention to the rest of the class.
"I would advise all of you to drink the restorative shortly after the poison, unless you feel like a trip the infirmary."
- - - -
"It's faded."
Juliette's voice was not pleased as she stared into the mirror. It had been more than a week since the dark ritual, and a glimpse at her reflection affirmed that the last traces of her inhuman looks had faded the night before. The face that stared back at her once again carried the pink blush of life, and her eyes had faded to brown. She again looked like a human woman and not a dark goddess.
"Of course, Juliette. All of the Dark magic that allowed your appearance to change has been taken up by the child."
The cruel face of Voldemort could be seen behind Juliette's reflection. They stood in a well-furnished bedroom on the third floor of a large home that had previously belonged to a family of rich Muggles. She turned to face him, putting her plain, human reflection behind herself.
"I can't do somatic magic either. Not even a simple levitation spell."
"You will find that, although you do not have the powers you were granted that night, you have been strengthened nonetheless. Your wandless skills have been greatly magnified… as have my own."
"Thank you, my lord," she intoned. Her dismay was palpable.
"You will receive more, faithful one. Now more than ever, we need Harry Potter. His body will bring our child unimaginable power."
Juliette practically jumped up at the prospect. "I will-"
"I think not," interrupted Voldemort. "I already have a plan for the procurement of the boy. Malfoy!"
The door opened and in walked Lucius Malfoy. The smugness practically radiated off of him. He bowed deeply to the Dark Lord and his Sorceress.
"Lucius will retrieve the boy. We will take his life on the New Moon, in four days."
"Yes, my lord."
Voldemort nodded at her and left, trailing a nearly smirking Malfoy. There would be no gathering tonight: not until Voldemort had found another suitable meeting-place.
Juliette turned back to the mirror. Her whispered "annihilate!" shattered the glass, bringing down a cascade of shards. Each piece reflected its own human woman, and Juliette stormed out of the room, leaving the thousand images of herself to their own devices.
A/N #2: THANKS again to ShadowedHand, Suzuki-chan, and Silverthreads for reviewing!! You really motivate me to proofread and update quickly, I really appreciate it. : )