Chapter Nine

1:45 am – Dumbledore's Office - Hogwarts

It was a short few moments before Paolo returned, with an extremely angry Severus Snape in tow. As Robert was learning, it was characteristic of the Potions Master to enter a room with a broad and dramatic flourish, his robes billowing out behind him like bat's wings. Snape stopped in the center of the room, his robes settling in the air around him, and stood stock-still in front of Dumbledore's desk. Snape's only motion consisted of crossing his arms and peering down his nose haughtily.

"Headmaster," Snape sneered, "you sent Zabini here to fetch me?" His nose crinkled with disgust upon saying the word, 'fetch.'

Dumbledore stood. His height, Robert now noticed, towered over Snape's. "Yes, Severus, I did send Paolo to, as you say, 'fetch' you. I humbly apologize for any," Dumbledore cleared his throat, "offense you may have taken, but your presence here is of utmost importance." He gestured to the chintz armchair next to Snape. "Please, sit."

Snape did not move. "You assigned me other tasks to attend to, Headmaster -- tasks to ensure the safety of this school, the teachers and, more importantly, the students." Snape's monotone whisper of a voice did not waver. "I should quite think I ought to get back to them."

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "Yes I did, didn't I? I did assign you those duties, and you shall return to them presently." Dumbledore sat back down, placed his elbows on the table, and held his fingers up, tented tip-to-tip. "But at this particular moment, Severus, we have a new clue arising from the Cryptex – a clue requiring your own, shall we say, personal knowledge to solve. Furthermore, we have another enigmatic problem before us, one which calls for your particular area of expertise."

Robert, staring silently at Snape, noticed that the Potions Master had finally moved -- he uncrossed his arms. Snape clutched and rubbed at the inside of his left wrist with his right hand, as if that particular spot was causing him a great deal of pain. The pain, however did not show on his face.

At the same moment, Paolo scratched slightly at the same area on his own left arm. Robert saw this as well. Sympathy pains? Paolo, who had stood at practical attention ever since delivering Snape, began to move incrementally toward the door.

"Perhaps, Headmaster, I should go downstairs to the dungeons – to the Slytherin Common Room. Someone needs to and ensure the safety of those students, especially given the threatening clue we just received," he said nervously. "I can also check on the other faculty members, see how they are holding up under all of this – this tragedy."

Dumbledore did not take his eyes off of Severus. "Yes, Paolo. That, in fact, is an excellent idea. Go, see to your son and his housemates, as I am sure that is what you most desire. I can understand the importance of watching over and protecting Blaise."

"Thank you, sir." Paolo wrenched open the door and practically sprinted out of the room. Snape, Dumbledore and Lupin watched him leave, each with differing looks of disgust, concern, and utter confusion. The door shut behind Paolo with a loud 'boom' of wood against wood, and the door handle locked into place.

"Coward," Robert heard Snape mutter.

Now what the hell was that all about? That, in Robert's estimation, was quite unlike Paolo – to run out of a situation instead of facing it head on and delving in to help. Robert considered it further. Paolo was probably just nervous and upset about Blaise. After all, it was Blaise's House that was the object of the new threat. Paolo's place right now was with his son. Yes, that's why.

Severus, still holding his left arm, turned back to face Dumbledore, and took a step toward the desk. "Headmaster, how may I be of service?"

"First of all, Severus, I cannot help but notice – your arm – your scar."

"Yes, Headmaster. The Dark Mark has been burning at my flesh all evening, ever since Professor Vector was murdered."

"The Dark Mark?" Robert asked. Lupin also leaned in for a closer look.

Snape turned violently toward Robert, yanking up the sleeve of his robe. "Yes, Muggle. The Dark Mark. There it is! Look! Ogle it all you wish. It is the mark of the Dark Lord! I ignorantly took the Mark in my youth."

Robert put up his hands in an 'okay, okay' type gesture, and backed away a few steps. Obviously, Robert had touched a nerve.

"Yes," Snape continued, "I was a follower of the Dark Lord, I was a Death Eater – and scars such as this never fade. When the Dark Lord is near or calls his Death Eaters, I still feel it – here," he pointed, "in my very flesh!"

"However," Snape swelled with pride. He abruptly pulled his sleeve back over the offending mark. "I do not respond. I do not answer Voldemort's call. I have since turned away from such, such – sadism, murder, and disgrace."

Robert remained uncharacteristically speechless, staring at the now-covered spot where the skull-and-snake symbol was burned into the skin on Snape's forearm. Robert did not need a symbologist's education to understand the meaning behind that symbol -- a snake emerging from and entwined through the eye and mouth of a human skull. It depicted a sickening picture of utter decay – a violation of human remains. Stealth and death. Immortality defeating death. Rebirth after death. Immense power rising from death. All of these, any of these. Take your pick.

Obviously, Robert reflected, this "Dark Mark" was quite a sore spot – in more than one way -- for Severus. Perhaps this was one of those things out of which Harry Potter indirectly warned Robert to keep his nose. Robert wondered, then, why Paolo was scratching at his own arm?

Could Paolo have been a – what did Snape call them? Death Eater? No. If he was, Robert would have seen such a mark years ago. He had seen Paolo in short sleeved shirts numerous times! Plus, Voldemort's initial downfall came nearly sixteen years ago, and Robert last saw Paolo only eight years ago. If Paolo was a former follower of the Dark Lord, that mark would have been there then! It simply wasn't, so Paolo couldn't. Issue closed.

"Severus," Dumbledore continued. "You know that you have earned my trust in a most important way, and you know that my trust does not easily waver, especially in the face of mere suspicion or speculation."

Robert could see Severus begin to squirm. He itched harder at the Dark Mark. "I understand, sir."

"The most recent clue to come out of the Cryptex, Severus, it implies that you – forgive me, I should not jump to such conclusions. It states that a former servant of Voldemort, like yourself, is waiting -- waiting to collect the remainder of the prophecy about Voldemort and Harry Potter on behalf of the Dark Lord. If that servant is not satisfied by three o'clock, the clue indicates, sadly, that a Slytherin will be the next to die."

Dumbledore read the passage aloud.

My old servant awaits, and his patience abates

As his own house is now left to chance

So, if now by three, word does not come to me

A Slytherin shall with death dance.

Severus took in a breath through his clenched teeth and bowed his head. "I understand your fear, sir. It certainly seems that the passage is describing me. However, Headmaster, I can assure you, that I am not at a loss for patience at the moment. Furthermore, I am not now, and will never be, a servant of the Dark Lord again. I will, in fact, do everything in my power to prevent the death of one of my very own House. You know my loyalties to Slytherin House and this school are paramount."

"Oh, yes, Snivellus, just like you showed loyalty to, and protected Professor Vector?" Remus barked, his normally placid eyes now atypically aflame.

Severus turned on Remus, hot with fury. Robert thought for a moment that Severus was going to lunge at the werewolf and choke him. The two wizards stared each other down, with Remus nearly – literally -- growling at Snape. Obviously, as with James Potter, there was a great deal of animosity between Remus Lupin and Severus Snape – despite the wolfsbane potion.

"That is enough, Remus." Dumbledore bellowed. That was the first time Robert heard Dumbledore raise his voice, even with the incredible stress of the entire evening. Dumbledore turned back to Severus, who was again seizing his arm, the pain now visible on the pale, pinched face.

"Now, Severus. You know what I must do, do you not?"

"Yes, Headmaster." Severus lowered himself into one of the armchairs, laid his wand on the desk, and covered his eyes with his hands. "Do as you must, sir, but I am innocent."

Dumbledore lifted his wand, and aimed it at Severus' head. Robert was unsure of what punishment Dumbledore was about to mete out. He was even more unsure whether he should even be witnessing this. Robert walked back into an alcove, and sat, perching himself on the edge of a tall, hard backed chair.

"Legillimens," Dumbledore said gently, his eyes fixated upon Snape. Snape offered no resistance, but merely sat there, his head in his hands. After a moment, Snape began trembling, his fingers curling as they dug into his forehead and into his greasy black hair, hiding a grimace of fear and pain.

Robert crossed the room quickly and crouched next to Remus. "What is Dumbledore doing? It looks like he's torturing him!"

Remus blinked. "That is called Legillimency, Robert. Sometimes, depending upon the wizard, it can be torture – such as in the hands of Lord Voldemort. But, in Dumbledore's hands, it is far from torture. Difficult, yes, but not painful. Dumbledore is experiencing, searching, living in Snape's memories. He is trying to find out if Snape had any hand in these murders. Dumbledore's an accomplished legillimens, so is Snape for that matter. If this does not prove Snape's innocence to Dumbledore, nothing will." Lupin stared hard at the now shaking Snape.

After a short moment, Dumbledore inhaled sharply, and let his breath out in a long cadence. Snape stopped trembling and removed his hands from his eyes. The two men now made eye contact, breathing hard. Snape collapsed back into the armchair.

"Severus, thank you," said Dumbledore. "Like I said, my trust has never wavered. I saw some memories in there that I should not like to ever make you repeat. I saw you discover Professor Vector's body and felt your anger and your grief. As much as that Dark Mark may burn you, I know that you are not the one to fear from within Hogwarts. Now the task is to find out to whom exactly that poem refers."

"But you needed to see. You needed to know. You needed to know if your trust in me really had been broken. I appreciate what you are doing, Headmaster, and I am only happy that I could prove myself worthy." Snape wiped his brow with his robe-sleeve and swallowed hard.

Dumbledore allowed Severus a few moments to recover. "Now, Severus," Dumbledore said, again perching his fingers against each other in an inverted V, "on to more pressing matters. Wolfsbane."

"Wolfsbane…yes?" Severus was still panting slightly.

"When was the last time you made any?"

"The day before yesterday, when you informed me that Lupin, here," he said with a modicum of spite, "was coming to assist Professor Zabini."

"Did you make it any differently than normal?"

"Of course not, Headmaster. If wolfsbane potion is brewed incorrectly, the effects can be devastating. In fact, Headmaster, I quite expected Lupin here," again, said with malice, "to come down to my dungeon this very evening for a dose of it. When he did not appear, I began searching for him. In fact, I am quite surprised to see him here – and in this form. Wolfsbane is not designed to return a werewolf to human form – it can only remove the memories, sentience, and awareness from the man, while at the same time removing the murderous instincts from the beast, taming it."

Dumbledore nodded. "We are all as surprised, Severus. Tell me, then, how can this – Lupin's retransformation -- be possible?"

"Honestly, Headmaster, I do not know. If, however I had a sample of the potion he drank, I can perhaps, determine…"

Lupin chimed in, holding his hands out under Snape's nose. "Your sample's right here, Snape. I had to crush the vial between my – er – paws, and lick it off. There has to be some more on my hands. They are a little bit sticky."

"You licked…" Snape said with disgust. "Where did you get it?"

"From me," said Robert. Snape wheeled in his chair and glared. "I mean, it was in the second cryptex." Robert spent the next few moments explaining to Snape how he was trapped in the Shrieking Shack with Lupin, and narrowly escaped with his life.

"Not a pleasant feeling, being face to face with a werewolf, eh, Langdon?" Snape looked at Lupin darkly. "I have much, I should say, experience with such encounters, thanks to your friends, werewolf."

Lupin sighed with an air of impatience. "Snape, now is not the time to renew old vendettas against Sirius or dwell on life debts you owe to James. Now is the time to figure out what in Merlin's name is going on in this school. Let it lie, man! Just take whatever you need from my hands and get on with it!" Obviously, Lupin was regaining some of his prior spunk.

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "Let me ask you this. Before you brewed this latest batch of wolfsbane for Remus, when was the last time prior?

"My sixth year NEWT level potions class brewed it for part of their final exam, Headmaster. Some of them were successful, some were not. It is a difficult potion and I felt it appropriate for sixth year students to be able to do."

"NEWT?" Robert asked, whispering to Remus.

"Yes. Like Muggle A-levels."

"Now, I know, Severus," said Dumbledore, "that you have many tricks up your sleeve for detecting cheats in your potions examinations, especially those at sixth year level. While it is a requirement of the Hogwarts Honor Code that students turn in a vial of their own potion, you also have ways of determining the identity of the brewer should you suspect foul play, do you not?"

"Yes, but only if it was a student who brewed it. The charm lies in the cauldrons. NEWT students are not permitted to use their own cauldrons for examinations. I provide them. Each cauldron is number marked to a particular student."

That sounds an awful lot like using randomly numbered bluebooks, different versions of tests, and school-provided Bic Biro pens, Robert mused. Each professor has their own way of ensuring honesty. This was Snape's.

"Would you be able to perform such an analysis even long after the tests are over?"

Robert could see the wheels turning behind Snape's eyes. "Yes, Headmaster. I can, and I understand what you are asking of me." He smiled slightly, and turned toward Lupin. "Hold out your grubby little hands again."

Lupin pursed his lips together and furrowed his brow in a piqued scowl, but complied. Snape pulled his wand out, and made small circles around the perimeter of Lupin's outstretched hands. "Discidium!"

Slowly, very slowly, miniscule droplets of the iridescent green potion pooled up onto Lupin's palms, forming two small globules of wolfsbane, one in each hand, as if the potion was being withdrawn systematically from within Lupin's very skin, his very pores. Snape pulled a small, empty vial out of his pocket, collected the potion, and replaced the stopper.

Lupin clapped his hands together. "That's that then. Nice and clean. Thank you very much."

Snape held the vial up to one of the flaming wall sconces lining Dumbledore's office. "This is wolfsbane, but it does not look correct." Snape's nose crinkled, and he scowled slightly. "I have seen a result like this before. Recently."

"Yes?" Dumbledore asked.

"This wolfsbane. It appears to be too concentrated. Too strong, as if someone added too much monkshood to the mixture. It should never glow like this, unless, of course…" Snape stroked at his chin with his right hand, his eyes darting to the left.

"Of course, what, Severus? What is it?" Lupin asked.

"Unless it is aged…if it is more than a few months old, it may take on an iridescence. In addition, the longer it ages, the more potent, but potentially, the more dangerous it becomes. Just looking at it I can't tell you who brewed it. But, I can find out for certain." Snape uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount of the potion onto a piece of clean parchment sitting on Dumbledore's desk. He again raised his wand, pointed at the potion and intoned, "fabbricanta!"

Robert leaned over the desk and watched the potion drag and zoom across the parchment. When it finally came to rest, it pooled up again. Within the pool was a number, a surname and a first initial. Robert read it, but didn't believe it. He read it again, and again.

"How could he – this student -- get hold of his own potion – this dangerous potion -- after all this time?" Robert asked.

"I do not know," Snape answered, flabbergasted. "But this potion is most definitely from last year's NEWT level Potions class." Snape turned and began to pace. "It is my policy to watch each student vial and stopper their potions, and then I immediately use Evanesco, a vanishing spell, to rid the cauldron of the remaining contents. This is to ensure that all cauldrons are completely empty before releasing students from examinations – ultimately to prevent any potions from leaving my classroom! Furthermore, after I evaluate and grade the potions in the vials, I dispose of them! Perhaps I missed one." Snape bowed his head in apparent shame. "Obviously, Headmaster, I have failed yet again!"

Robert looked down at the name again. It glowed up at him from the parchment, taunting him, almost mocking. It was impossible. How could this student's – this particular student's -- potion end up in the hands of Lord Voldemort? How could this particular vial of extremely potent, and potentially dangerous, wolfsbane wind up within the second cryptex? Was it stolen from Snape's office? More importantly, who gave it to the Dark Lord?

Snape's visit, unfortunately, created far more questions than answers.

Dumbledore, too, looked mesmerized at the name. He looked up from the parchment and turned to Snape. "Severus, my friend, do not worry yourself overmuch. Given the information illuminated on the parchment before us, it appears that we may have yet another task for you to complete." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled momentarily. "This, Severus, should also be right up your alley, so to speak. And you now have," Dumbledore looked at the clock in his office. It was 2:30 am. "One half hour to achieve it."

Chapter Ten

2:35 am –The Great Hall - Hogwarts

Robert followed as Snape and Lupin led him back down the hall, down the moving staircase, and into the now darkened Great Hall. While the other two men entered, Robert stayed in the doorway, simply staring.

Only six hours ago, this Hall was full of noisy, chattering, laughing students, bustling with energy and youthful life. Now, it appeared empty, cavernous, much larger, and full of dark shadows and frightening echoes. It reminded Robert of the nave of an old, unused English Cathedral – a once-vital place of gathering and meeting that now stood barren save for the few tourists and architecture buffs paying it a visit. Without the students, this Great Hall was merely a shell of its otherwise glorious self.

The ceiling still reflected the sky outside – clear, starry, and brightly moonlit. As it was near morning, the moon was now hanging lower in the sky, and was partially cut off by the lower edge of the enchanted ceiling. The occasional dark grey cloud streaked across the bluish black with very little contrast – like a faint shadow. The floating candles were gone, and the majority of the wall torches had been extinguished. The only torches remaining lit carried an ethereal blue flame, reminding Robert of old-fashioned natural gas lamps.

"Stay here, Langdon," Snape ordered. "Lupin will keep you company while I go down to the Slytherin Common room to find, or I should say, fetch," he sneered, "Zabini. I will be back shortly." Without another word, Snape turned, his long, black robes again billowing out behind him with an overly theatrical flair.

Remus, seemingly from pure habit, walked to the end portion of the Gryffindor table, straddled the bench, and lowered himself gingerly down. Robert followed, and took a seat opposite. Remus, despite his previously growing vigor, looked tired and worn again.

"You look just about how I feel, Remus." Robert said, the late hour and the events of the day finally catching up to him. "But I know it's not over. Not by a long shot."

"You are so right, Robert. We still have much work to do. Especially now that we know whose potion that was."

"I still can't believe it." Robert shook his head. "There must be some mistake, there has to be! I mean, Severus said it was nearly impossible for anyone to take potions out of his classroom! And as much trouble as I hear the boy gets in on occasion, I can't imagine him taking such a risk! It confuses me even more that he would do anything, I mean anything to help out Lord Voldemort! It makes no sense for…"

"Shhh." Remus held up a hand, cutting Robert off mid-sentence. "Quiet." He peered toward the entrance doors, and squinted. "Ah. Yes."

Robert followed Remus' stare. "I don't see anything, Remus."

"Just watch and listen," he smiled conspiratorially, and then whispered. "We should keep our discussion about the errant potion to a minimum right now. We are not alone."

Robert looked again. No one was there. "But, Remus!"

"Shush!" Remus cleared his throat, and then spoke with a deliberately loud voice. "If Harry Potter's father could only see him now. Ducking into shadows, lurking about moping and pouting like an ickle wee baby in the Gryffindor Common Room, hiding behind his friends and classmates…tsk, tsk, what would James say? He'd be right disappointed, he would."

Robert played along. "Yeah, and Sirius Black, too, from what you just told me, what a shame that Harry's such a… such a…"

"Chicken?" Remus stifled a giggle.

"Yes, chicken! Yellow-bellied coward, that Harry Potter." Robert laughed. It was the first time in nearly a week that Robert did so. Although the situation was not completely appropriate, some laughter and mirth was warranted to break the horrible tension of the past few hours. Frankly, Robert needed the recharge.

"I am not a coward." A bodiless voice echoed throughout the Great Hall. "Neither am I a chicken."

"Uh, oh." Remus mocked. "He heard us!" Remus stood and walked toward the entrance doors. He reached up his hand toward the nothingness, grasped at nothing, and pulled at nothing. Under all that nothing stood Harry – visibly tired, with reddened eyes and hair that stood up even moreso than usual.

Remus smiled. "You're just like your father with that ego problem, Potter. Call James Potter chicken and you're in for a real row." Remus ruffled Harry's hair. "And, Harry, if you're going to lurk about in James' old invisibility cloak, do remember who you're trying to fool. I've seen James in this thing times enough that I know what it looks like when someone is wearing one. You should know that if you look hard enough, and if you, Harry, move too much, the background goes all funny and wavy."

Robert could only stare. He stood to full attention when Remus revealed Harry under the cloak. "Holy crap! I thought he was hiding behind the door or something! What is that thing?"

"It's my dad's old invisibility cloak," Harry replied. "I'm not sure how it works, but when you wear it, you become invisible."

"Nearly invisible," Remus corrected, smiling. "Now, Potter," Remus took on a teacherly, scolding tone, and he wagged a finger in Harry's face. "Why in the bloody hell are you out of bed and wandering the school halls at this time of night? Haven't I warned you before? It's not safe for you to just go anywhere you want or feel like – especially this night! What did I say to you about your father and mother dying for you?"

Harry scowled. "I haven't forgotten that! I am not flouting my parents' sacrifice!" Harry slumped onto one of the Ravenclaw benches facing Remus. "Don't you understand? I had to come down here and find you! I had to know what was going on! You know me, I can't help myself, especially when it comes to Voldemort!"

Remus nodded. "Yes I do know you all too well, Harry."

Harry continued. "By the way, we, the Gryffindors I mean, we're all happy that you're not dead. Especially me."

"Why thank you!"

"I'm being serious!" Harry said. "I had to see you for myself – that you really were alive. Now that Sirius is gone, you're the closest thing I have to my mum and dad." He hung his head. "When I heard you were dead... Hermione and Ron, they… I just didn't…" Harry's voice trailed off.

Remus leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees. He reached out and took one of Harry's hands in his own, pulling Harry toward him. He looked up at Harry. "Potter, you have more of your mum and dad in you than you can possibly know. I've told you this before. You don't need me. You carry them with you. Always." Remus laid a hand on Harry's chest. "Right here."

Harry just smiled. Then that smile turned into a concerned frown. He looked up at Robert, then back to Remus. It was obvious to Robert that Harry had some trouble mustering up the courage to say what he was going to say.

"My scar…" Harry lifted a hand to his head.

"What about it, Harry?" Remus asked. His face suddenly flushed with concern. "It's been painful, hasn't it, tonight?" Remus reached up and brushed Harry's bangs aside. Robert noticed that the scar was deeper and redder – more pronounced -- than it was a few hours ago.

Harry nodded. "It's not the only thing, but it has kept me awake all night. Voldemort, he…" Harry paused. "He's trying to get into my head again, Remus." Robert was taken aback slightly at Harry's use of Lupin's first name. "He has to be close by, that's the only explanation. I've been practicing Occlumency all night to keep him out, and it's been hard. I know what he's after, and, believe me, I won't let him have it."

"The prophecy?" Robert asked.

Harry had almost forgotten that Robert was there. He looked up with a start. "Yes. That's what he wants. He's using Legillimency to get at it now. He's tried this before, but I've always been able to fight him off – shove him aside." Harry frowned. "It's getting harder now."

"How is this possible?" Robert was again amazed at the abilities these wizards have.

Remus took up the explanation. "You saw Legillimency in action, Robert, upstairs with Snape. Now, if Snape wanted to, he could have easily blocked Dumbledore's searching using a technique called Occlumency. It's difficult, very difficult. Occlumency is essentially a blocker. It prevents others from entering your thoughts and memories. Snape is the one who taught Harry how to use it." He turned to Harry. "Have you considered using a Pensieve?"

"Yes," Harry replied, "but Dumbledore thinks it's too risky – he thinks the prophecy's safer up here." He pointed to his head. "Anyone can dive into a Pensieve and see that thought without anyone being able to stop it. Here, in my head, only a Legillimens can get at it, and I can prevent it."

Sensing Robert's growing confusion, Remus explained. "A Pensieve is like a big bowl where thoughts and memories can be stored."

All Robert could manage was, "oh." Then he looked at his watch. It was now 2:45. "Where is Snape?"

Robert's question could not have been more perfectly timed. Before Remus could answer, Snape, his robes again billowing, entered the Great Hall, a permanent sneer plastered on his face. Paolo walked in behind him, appearing abnormally nervous.

"Potter," Snape snarled. "Out of bed and out of bounds again, I see. Rules mean nothing to you, do they? And this…" Snape lifted the corner of the invisibility cloak. "Dumbledore and his special favors, allowing you to keep magical items such as these that are designed for nothing but troublemaking! It boils the blood."

Harry grimaced slightly. Obviously, he was too tired to really become angry.

"Severus," Remus said, "this is neither the time nor place for your fits of jealousy or your misplaced anger toward James Potter. Leave Harry alone. He, of all students, has been through hell tonight. Thinking that one of his father's best friends was brutally murdered tonight wasn't bad enough. He's been fighting off the Dark Lord's Legillimency attacks for the past six hours and its taking a toll on him!"

"I do hope you have been keeping up with your Occlumency practice, Potter." Snape's icy coldness seemed, to Robert, to crack ever so slightly. "You have been able to fend him off, haven't you?"

Harry sighed. "So far, yes. But Voldemort, he's strong. And he's close, and…aaargh!" Harry clutched at his forehead and doubled over, falling off the bench and onto the floor. As Remus said earlier, torture.

Robert, Remus and Snape dashed toward him. Robert lifted Harry up under his shoulders and placed him back on the bench. "What the hell just happened?"

"Vol...Vol… Voldemort." Harry murmured. "He just tried it again!" Harry straightened up. "He's gone though. He's gone."

Remus and Severus exchanged worried glances. Paolo approached and sat next to Harry. "All right there, Potter?" Harry didn't answer. Instead, he looked up at Paolo, his eyes wide in sudden and abject horror.

"Paolo," Snape began, eyeing Harry's reaction. "We need to talk."

"I was with my son, Severus. What could be so important?"

"Your son, in fact, is what is so important." Severus answered. "That wolfsbane potion Robert drew from the Cryptex…that potion was brewed by Blaise last summer at end of term!" Snape's eyes bored into Paolo's, searching for a response.

"No," Paolo muttered. "But, that's impossible! How could he take potions out of the castle?"

"That's what we wanted to know." Remus said. Snape continued to stare at Paolo.

"I have no idea. Truly!"

"More importantly, Paolo," Remus continued. "How did that particular potion end up in Death Eater hands? How did it end up inside the Cryptex?"

"I don't know."

Snape stood up suddenly. "Lupin, Langdon, a moment please." He gestured toward the door. "Zabini. Stay with Potter. Don't let him out of your sight."

Robert's heart skipped with renewed worry. No, I won't let Paolo or Harry out of my sight.

As they approached the door, Snape whispered. "Paolo is using Occlumency. I have tried for the last few minutes to enter his mind and I have been blocked each time. This is most suspicious."

Remus and Robert nodded, and the three returned to the table.

"Paolo," Robert began. "Can I ask you another question – about the school Houses?" Robert tried switching tactics -- changing the subject to ease Paolo into talking.

"What House was Vol…" Paolo shuddered this time. "Sorry, You-Know-Who from?"

Paolo sighed. "Slytherin, of course."

"And Blaise is a Slytherin, right?"

"Yes. But, I don't see where this is going?"

"What is You-Know-Who's main goal? What is it that he most wants?"

"The prophecy?" Paolo shrugged.

"No, bigger than that, more big-picture, global. There has to be something, Paolo. What is it? You told me that Slytherin House has this pureblood ideal. Is that something You-Know-Who stands for too?"

"Yes, of course he does. He's descended from Salazar Slytherin, the founder of that House! Of course he stands for that ideal."

"Then," Robert stood and began pacing. "Isn't it possible also that Blaise could be caught up in that?"

Paolo began to shake his head in utter denial. "No, not possible."

"Hear me out, Paolo. It makes sense." Robert mused for a moment. "When we got off the train and met him, Blaise was, well, for lack of a better word, different. Militaristic. Reminded me of a Hitler Youth, to be honest. That racial slur he used, 'anima fangosa,' 'Mudblood.' I mean, you lit into him pretty good when he said that. Doesn't that slur, that name, go along with it?"

Paolo continued to shake his head. "No. My son is not a Death Eater, and he is not involved with anything having to do with the Dark Lord." Notably, Paolo began itching at his left arm again.

"What do you keep grabbing at on your wrist, Paolo?" Robert reached down to pull up Paolo's sleeve. Paolo shirked away.

"Aaarrgh!" Harry doubled over again in newly intense pain. Harry fell to the floor again, this time writhing, squirming, clutching at his head, and balling his knees up. Harry's throat produced feral, guttural groans and grunts of pain. Robert sensed that the pain this time was incredible, unbearable. Clearly, this was the torture that Lupin was talking about. Robert had to struggle to keep from bursting into tears himself watching Harry suffer this way.

After a few seconds, Harry sat bolt upright. He took in a great breath and shouted, "NO!!!!" He repeated this single word over and over and over again. Remus, Robert, and Snape again tried to hold him, comfort him, or even restrain him, but Harry kept thrashing.

As suddenly as the fit began, it stopped. At the very same moment, a figure appeared in the doorway to the Great Hall. He was running at full sprint, nearly knocking into the Hufflepuff table.

Robert recognized the blond, pinched-faced boy immediately. It was Draco Malfoy. Only this time, Robert noticed, he was not wearing that haughty, judgmental expression he first saw at the Thestral paddock. Now, Draco was, for lack of a better word, a mess. The slicked-back hair of just six hours ago was messy, tousled, and slightly wet. The eyes were sunken. The robes were askew, hanging off Draco's left shoulder. Robert also noticed that Draco was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt under the outer robe.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Snape barked. "Why are you out of bed?"

"It's Blaise Zabini, Professor Snape!" Draco stopped in front of the Gryffindor table, panting, and looking desperately from face to face. "Help us! He's gone! Blaise, he's gone!"

"What do you mean, gone?" Robert could see the panic bubble within Paolo. Paolo put his hands on Draco's shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"Professor Zabini, sir. We were sitting in the common room waiting for furher word, sir, and Blaise wanted something to eat, so…"

"Get on with it, boy! Get to the point!" Paolo bellowed.

"His bed locker, sir! He opened up the locker, touched one of the boxes inside, and disappeared! We don't know where he went, sir, but I think there was a Portkey in there!"

Paolo released Draco's shoulders and slumped back down onto the bench. Like Robert did hours before, Paolo leaned over and snaked his fingers through his graying hair.

"Portkey?" Robert asked.

Snape answered, his words coming uncharacteristically rapid. "A Portkey is a way of transport. An ordinary object is charmed to serve as a portal, so to speak, between two places."

"So, if someone wanted to kidnap Blaise without having to breach the school's security…"

"Yes," Remus answered. "All they would have to do is somehow plant a Portkey in a place they know their victim would touch it. As soon as it is touched, the person would be transported…wherever."

"Okay, but how in the hell did a Portkey get in Blaise's personal belongings?"

Snape, Remus, Harry and Draco all shook their heads in unison and shrugged. Paolo wrung his hands.

Robert looked at his watch. 3:02 am. Damn. Whoever did this was right on time. Right on time. We missed it again. "Blaise, then was the Slytherin in the poem…" Robert said out loud. He repeated the poem to himself.

My old servant awaits, and his patience abates

As his own house is now left to chance

So, if now by three, word does not come to me

A Slytherin shall with death dance.

My old servant awaits…, Robert thought. His own house is now left to chance. Robert took the piece of parchment out of his pocket and studied it intently. After a moment, Robert's eyes widened, and he blanched. "My God. I don't believe this! Why didn't I notice this before?"

"Notice what," asked Remus.

"House."

"House, what about House?"

"You don't understand, Remus. This parchment, it says, house. The word, 'house' is not capitalized, because it's not a proper noun. It's a common noun. Meaning, a house, as in a building, or a family unit – as opposed to Hufflepuff House or Slytherin House or…." Robert paused, looking suspiciously at Paolo. "Ravenclaw House."

"I still don't get it." Remus said.

"Blaise Zabini." Robert prodded, quoting the poem again, pointing to the line on the parchment. "His own house is now left to chance." He sat next to Paolo, still eyeing him distrustfully. "You, Paolo, you're the 'old servant,' aren't you? And it's not your capital-H 'House,' as in Slytherin, or in your case, Ravenclaw, that's in trouble, it's your actual house – your household – Blaise and Vickie -- your family, Paolo, isn't it?"

The others in the room fell silent with indignant shock. Draco gasped and covered his mouth, visibly sick. Paolo, his head still in his hands, shook violently, his shoulders heaving in abject grief. With Paolo's hands raised, the sleeve of his robe fell. Robert, horrorstruck, saw the Dark Mark emblazoned upon his left forearm.

Robert took a composing breath. He was not going to yell. He was not going to scream. He was not going to get angry or upset. Merely, handle the situation, and get Blaise to safety. Although he truly did not want to, Robert had to hear the truth.

Robert spoke quietly, non-confrontationally, to his old friend. He still could not believe such things of Paolo. There still had to be some reason, some rational explanation. Temporary insanity? No. Bribery—threats—coercion. That must be it. "This has all been you, hasn't it? The Dark Lord's taken Blaise to get to you, hasn't he? He gets to you, you get him the prophecy, he gets Harry Potter, Blaise is set free."

Paolo didn't answer. He didn't have to. The answer came in Paolo's keening wails. That answer was, yes.

For a few long moments the only sound in the Great Hall was Paolo's grief and guilt-stricken sobs. Harry, with a renewed sense of urgency, broke the silence. "We need to get Blaise out of there, and quickly." Harry said. "Voldemort's happier than he's ever been. I should know. I just felt it."

Chapter Eleven

3:06 am – The Great Hall – Hogwarts

No one in the room showed any signs of anger or outrage. No one shouted judgments or condemnations at Paolo. With Blaise Zabini's life – or at least his normal life – on the line now, each and every person in the room focused on the task Harry just laid out for them. It was imperative that they rescue Blaise. Worrying about things like Paolo's motivation towards murder, or a suitable punishment for same would have to wait until later.

Remus Lupin, a burst of adrenaline now masking and dulling his pain, shot toward Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was at least two inches taller than Remus, but in his grief and growing sense of guilt, he shrunk under Remus' glare.

"This was all my fault." Draco sobbed. "We knew what Professor Zabini was doing – going after the prophecy for You-Know-Who! Even after there were three murders, we didn't do anything to stop him! We had no idea he'd get dementors to kiss Blaise! We… we thought it would mean You-Know-Who could come back stronger, take over the school. It's what I've been taught all my life is the best thing! I thought it would get my father and the others – Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, McNair – out of Azkaban!" O Draconian Devil…

"Malfoy." Remus placed his hands on Draco's shoulders. Malfoy sneered in mild disgust. "Draco. I know and I understand. I don't like it, not one bit, but I understand. However, if we're going to prevent another death and get your friend Blaise back, you have to work with us – with Dumbledore – for a change. Not against us – not on the side of Voldemort – do you understand?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, but my father, he's still in Azkaban, and it's all because of Potter and Dumbledore and…!"

"Malfoy," Snape intervened. "Your father's presence in Azkaban has nothing to do with Potter. Potter merely acted to save his own life, and Dumbledore to save everyone else's. You should know first-hand by now that Potter's instinct for self-preservation is keenly honed. Do you not know that the Dark Lord nearly killed Potter two years ago – possessed him utterly? If anything, Malfoy, your father's being in Azkaban is due only to prideful carelessness on the part of the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters! I hate to say this, but if your father had followed through, killed Potter and the others right away, and taken the prophecy orb from the Department of Mysteries when he had the chance…"

Harry shifted uncomfortably where he stood. It was obvious to Robert that whatever happened was an event that Harry was loath to relive. Clearly, something happened two years ago where Harry had a run-in with Voldemort that nearly cost him his life – and that confrontation had to do with the prophecy. Robert continued to listen with rapt attention.

Snape continued. "… he would not be where he is today. Frankly, Mr. Malfoy, even if the Dark Lord were to take Potter, I seriously doubt he would follow through with his promise to release your father. If he wanted your father out of Azkaban, he would be out by now. The dementors follow him now, they obey him, and they no longer care about guarding Azkaban."

Draco hung his head. Robert could tell that Draco Malfoy had great respect for Severus Snape, and he clung tightly to Snape's advice. For Snape to say such things to Draco – that must have been an intense wake-up call for the boy. Draco looked up at Harry for a moment, with an expression of intense hatred and jealousy, tears of frustration now streaming down his face. "Potter," he spat.

"Yes, Malfoy." Harry's voice showed no sign of hate, no sign of malice – only concern.

"Get Blaise back. If anyone can do it, you bloody well can – you'd better." Snape's speech obviously, and thankfully, worked.

A brief, flickering smile crossed Harry's face. "I'll do my best, Malfoy."

Robert sprang into action. "Now, what do we do?"

"Malfoy, you must go to Dumbledore. As much as you hate to, you must. Tell Dumbledore what happened, although I imagine he probably knows. Help him gather the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic. We will, I imagine, need backup," Snape ordered. Draco turned on his heel and hurried out of the Great Hall. Robert could hear his footsteps echo through the hallways toward Dumbledore's office.

Snape turned toward Robert and Remus. "The rest of us, we will proceed to the Common Room and inspect Zabini's locker. If it is as I suspected, we should find the Portkey left behind. The Dark Lord would not chance Zabini's ability to return to Hogwarts by planting a two-way Portkey."

"Yeah," Harry said, "but isn't he chancing us coming after him?"

"Frankly, Harry," Remus mused, "I think that's exactly what Voldemort wants. And we'll have to be sharper than ever."

That feeling of dread felt earlier in the Great Hall, Robert decided, that butterfly-in-the-stomach, I'm-going-to-be-sick-any-minute-if-I-don't-get-out-of-here feeling…it just increased again, by a power of a thousand. Can I click my heels together now???

Robert swallowed. "I take it we're going to use that Portkey if it's still there?"

"Absolutely," said Remus. "Wouldn't have it any other way, now would we?" He smiled at Harry.

"What about Paolo?" Robert pointed at the crumpled up heap that was his friend.

"He comes with us. He needs to see the result of his doings." Snape ordered.

Minutes later, Remus, Robert, Severus, Paolo, and Harry stood outside the Slytherin Common Room. Severus gave the password, "Sang Real," and the door swung inwards. Severus stepped inside first. "This way."

Robert was the last of the group to enter the room. He had caught a glimpse of the damask red and rich gold decorations in the Gryffindor Common Room. By contrast, this one was also interesting. The dominant color of this room was a washed-down, patina green, with touches of silver and black. All of the tables and wooden furniture were covered with a high-gloss black enamel, detailed with shimmering silver serpents.

Fire and water, Robert thought. Passion and coolness. This room was definitely the opposite of that belonging to Gryffindor.

The couches and chairs were Spartan, with minimal cushioning, and minimal comfort. The fireplace hearth was immense, and the mantelpiece was shaped like a winding, writhing jumble of serpents. There were numerous paintings on the walls, all of straggled or scruffy looking wizards, and all of which looked as if they were purveyors of Dark Magic. Thankfully, each of the portraits was fast asleep.

This Common Room, unlike the Gryffindor one, was deserted. Apparently, the Slytherins were either asleep, or gathered up in the dormitory. Other than the loss of their comrade, Blaise, there seemed little concern from this House about the horrible happenings of the evening.

Robert followed the group up a winding staircase to a wide open dormitory. The seven beds in this dormitory were arranged in a semi-circle around a central pot-belly stove. The hangings and bedclothes were varying shades of green and silver. The room was full of students, jam-packed into the area around Blaise Zabini's bed locker, staring wildly into it.

One boy turned and saw Snape. "Professor Snape, sir! Blaise Zabini! He went in his locker and…what's Potter doing in here?" The other boys turned and stared at both Snape and Harry, with mixed looks of reverence and hatred shadowing their rather stupid-looking faces.

"Yes, Goyle, I know Zabini's gone." Snape ignored the boy's comment about Harry. "Malfoy told me all about it, I don't need to hear it again from your doddering mouth. Step aside now, all of you. Back to your beds before you all get detention and lose ten points each from Slytherin before classes even begin!"

The threat had the desired effect. All of the Slytherin boys scattered like cockroaches when the light turns on. Paolo sank down on Blaise's bed and sobbed anew. "Blaise, Blaise, mio figlio, what did I do? What did I do?"

Snape wheeled in disgust. "Snap out of it, Zabini, right now. Dramatics will not get your boy back. You must cooperate."

Remus and Robert bent low over the locker. Each of the items within looked harmless enough. "Don't touch anything," Remus warned, "let me try something first."

Remus took out his wand, muttered, "Trovimagica," and moved the wand in circles over each of the boxes in the trunk. One of the boxes – a box marked "chocolate frogs, one dozen" – shook violently, and gave off a yellowish glow. Remus held his wand over the box, and muttered another incantation: "Revelius Incantatem."

Robert stood transfixed. The box continued to shake, and gave off a small amount of steamy smoke. This smoke billowed and curled itself into a single word. Portus.

"There's your Portkey, Severus."

Harry leapt forward. "Then let's touch it, let's go!"

"Wait," said Robert. "You mean to tell me we just touch that box, and we're transported to wherever Blaise is? What – is that like Star Trek or something where our molecules are all scattered and scrambled and then put back together again? I mean, what can happen? Anyways, we don't know what we're getting into! Voldemort could be waiting for us on the other side!"

"Robert," Remus stood and laid a hand on Robert's shoulder. "It's all by magic. Travel by Portkey is perfectly safe. You don't get scrambled up as you say, and you don't get scattered. More people have died from Muggle airplane crashes than Portkey travel…"

"Yeah," said Robert. "That's because Muggles outnumber you people by millions to one!"

Remus gave a wan smile. "Just trust me, Robert, you have so far." Robert nodded reluctantly.

Remus aimed his wand at the box again. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The box levitated. Remus moved it with his wand, and set it back down at the foot of Blaise's bed. "On the count of three, we all place our hands on the box. Snape, you ensure that Paolo's hand gets on there. One. Two. Three."

Robert reached out a tentative hand, and jerked it back, still uncertain. Harry grabbed hold of his hand and forced it onto the Portkey.

Robert felt a strange sensation, as if someone had tied a string to his middle and gave an immense jerk. He felt his feet leave the ground. He could not remove his hand from the box. It was stuck there, and it felt as if it would remain stuck until the end of the ride. Robert became slightly dizzy from the whirling, swirling images and color around him.

Robert felt like he was again falling down the abandoned well, and that he would again land in ten feet of frigid water. With that image in his head, Robert could feel his panic rise for at least the tenth time that night. The world continued to spin and eddy, the wind continued to rush past his ears and in his hair, when suddenly, it stopped.

Robert felt his feet hit ground, and he fell forward, onto his hands and knees. The ground was muddy and marshy with small bits of dead, dried vegetation sticking out at sharp angles. It smelled of earthy decay and mold. Robert pushed himself up, got to his feet and looked around. Snape, Harry, Remus and Paolo were scattered around him in a twenty-foot arc. Each of them was slowly getting to their feet. Robert looked wildly around for the box – the Portkey. It was gone. Like Blaise before them, their seemingly only way of returning to Hogwarts was left behind.

Without warning, Paolo took off in a mad dash toward the edge of the field. "Paolo!" Robert shouted. "Paolo, where are you going?"

Paolo did not respond and did not look back. Robert looked around to the others momentarily, and then took of in a sprint after his friend.

"Robert, wait! Robert!" Remus bellowed. "Come back!"

With a sudden jolt, Robert was wrenched backwards, and knocked off his feet. As the others came closer, he heard Snape bellow, "Impedimenta," his wand aimed at Paolo. He looked ahead and saw Paolo fall in a similar manner, howling with anger and pain. Harry and Remus ran past Robert, gathered up Paolo, and began to drag him back.

"What the hell are you doing?" Robert yelled, getting to his feet. "I almost had him!"

"Yes, Langdon," Snape sneered. "And you also almost ran right into a swarm of dementors." Snape pointed to the sky above. About two hundred yards away, there was a tightly-packed group of tall hooded figures – some floating in the air, some hovering inches off the ground.

It was all Robert could do but stare in horror. The dementors were swarming and flying around a single, central spot. During the occasional breaks in the swarm, Robert could see within the apex of the dementors – a small portion of old, broken wall. Upon that wall was a tall post. Tied to that post was a young man. He was thrashing wildly and screaming in terror.

"Blaise." Robert breathed. "We're too late."

The words, "we're too late," sent a shockwave through Paolo. Paolo cried anew, rocking back and forth on the ground, his face buried in Lupin's cloak. Lupin looked up at Robert with pleading eyes, as if to say, "come here and help your friend."

Robert approached Paolo and turned him around. "What's done is done, Paolo. All we have to do now is get him out of here. They have him, yes, but they haven't kissed him yet! No one cares right this very minute why or how you did it man, but we need you here. We need you sensato, Paolo, in your right mind, ready to go. Your mourning, your dolore, will do nothing for Blaise right now."

Paolo looked past Robert -- toward the sky -- in increasing horror. At the same moment, Robert felt an immense chill course through his body, starting at the top of his head and flowing mercilessly through to the ends of his toes. As if played by a movie projector, every horrible thought from his lifetime began flooding back to him.

Robert heard the cavernous 'splash' as he hit the bottom of the well as a child, watched his father die. He saw the mangled body of Jacques Saunière, and the branded body of Leonardo Vetra. He watched Vittoria Vetra glare, murder in her eyes, at the Hassassin as he laid his hands violently upon her body. Robert saw the flash and heard the concussion of the anti-matter bomb exploding over Rome. Finally he felt the kiss of death as he fell two miles from an exploding helicopter with naught but a few yards of fabric to slow him down.

Everything around Robert started to swirl, fog over, and mist into nothingness. "What, what… what is happening?" He muttered.

No one answered. Silence. No one would ever answer again. Robert was finished, dead, and he didn't care. He did not want to live anymore. He felt as if he would never be happy again. Why bother? Why go on? Why not just…let…go... and…

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A booming voice rent the air, scattering the increasing, enclosing silence. Robert suddenly found himself able to look up, able to lift his head again. When he did so, he saw an incredible sight. There were two dementors – and they were fleeing – but what were they fleeing from?

A stag. An immense, glowing white stag. Robert slowly started to feel normal again, the haunting images, wishes for death, and terrifying sounds fled from his mind. He looked to his right and saw Harry Potter, his wand still extended, and a bright, white glow emanating from the tip. The ethereal stag was still gamboling around in the sky, driving back dementors.

Harry looked at Robert. "All right there, Professor Langdon?"

"What the hell was that?"

"That, Robert, was a dementor." Remus said. "Being around a dementor is a wholly unpleasant experience isn't it? See now why they used dementors to guard Azkaban?"

"What… what did it do to me? I wanted to die!"

"Dementors, Robert, feed on every happy thought you have, drain them right out of you, and replace them with every horror and every nightmare you've had in your entire life." Remus explained, as he helped Snape to his feet. "I relieve the day I was bitten. Potter here, whenever the dementors are around, hears his mum and dad being murdered by Voldemort."

Harry lowered his wand, the two stray dementors now having rejoined the swarm.

"All right there, Harry?" Remus asked. "Nice Patronus, there. Prongs would have been proud."

"Thanks, Remus," Harry said. "But I don't think it can take on all those dementors out there."

Remus shrugged. "Likely not. We'll just have to come up with a plan as we go. Here, I brought this just in case, and it seems to be coming in handy." Remus handed Robert a large chunk of chocolate. "Eat it. It'll make you feel better."

"Chocolate?" Robert asked.

"Yes, chocolate. Undoes the effects from a dementor, gets you right as rain again in no time." Remus distributed pieces of chocolate to Severus, Harry, and Paolo.

Paolo, however, refused, shoving Remus' hand aside. "No. Let me suffer here. Let the dementors come for me, I deserve it!"

Feeling newly warmed and energized from the chocolate, Robert grabbed the candy from Remus and wheeled on Paolo. "Didn't you hear a damn word I just said?! No one here gives a crap right now. Snap out of your pity party and let's go get your kid! That's my 'nephew' out there, too, you know, and if you want to sit here and wallow in your own misery, then, well, screw you." Robert shoved a piece of chocolate in Paolo's mouth and began walking toward the swarm of dementors. Harry, Remus and Snape just stared, wide-eyed.

Paolo stood, brushed off his robes, and followed.