Chapter 9- Snape the bitter
*********
Ten minutes later, the first drabble of detention-nees came into the room, slinking about like a pack of slovenly dogs, this pack, however, including Mr Harry Potter. Before he had left for his detention, Hermione had warned him: "Snape is really in a bad mood about this double business, so be careful!"
Harry had sighed, hoping that for whatever reason, Snape had managed to fall down a mineshaft or been taken away by a pack of hungry hippogriffs before detention. As he saw Snape organising his desk at the front of the room, Harry realised that this wasn't the case, and felt a sense of foreboding suddenly land on top of him. He sighed and took a seat next to a third year Hufflepuff who looked like she was on breaking point. It was at this point he saw the barrel of spark eels. Harry shivered in disgust, and began to read the assorted graffiti on the desk in front of him.
When, finally, all those who should have been present were present, sitting at the back of the dungeon together, they heard a loud voice at the front boom, "All of you, sit at the front, quickly!"
They looked at the expression on Snape's face. It wasn't exactly an angry face, although it could be interpreted that way, it might have been a tired face if it weren't for the faintest tick of the beginnings of a smile on his face. The tick disappeared as they all sat at the front desks, looking more than a little apprehensive.
"Well, well, well, what a sorry looking bunch you are?" he said, a little sarcastically, "Right, this is an hour of my time I don't wish to waste, you will each take a spark eel from the barrel over there, " he, at this moment, lifted on from his desk, holding it so it's head was between his fore finger and thumb, and it's tail wagged a little in the draft, "take the knife, drag it down it's belly," At this point slapped it down on the desk in front of Harry, slitting it open with the intensity and self possession of a man who had done this for his own pleasure in his own time, "and remove the heart, liver and eyes" he cut out the liver and heart easily, but the eyes had to be levered out with Snape's knife. This resulted in one of the eyeballs hitting Harry in the face, while the other fell on a fifth years lap, "Sorry about that, " he said seriously, holding out his hand for the eyes. Harry delicately put the eye on his hand, and the fifth year girl obliged him. "After which, you will put them in the labelled boxes on the table behind you, without mixing them up, the remains of the fish will be piled up, NEATLY and then put back in the barrel, do I make myself clear? " he ended, dangerously.
There was silence.
"Well, did I?" he asked, even more dangerously.
There was a chorus of yes-es.
"Right, I hope you've brought your gloves and overalls with you, or this will be an extremely messy business. " he replied, as he passed out the gutting knives. A few faces indicated that this was the case. Snape sighed. "Alright, there are some spare overalls and gloves by the cabinet over there."
Harry wondered why he was being so civil. But this thought was driven from his mind as he noticed that he was staring at his forehead. Harry automatically covered it up with hair as he wondered why his scar had taken Snape's interest again. When he had first seen it, it had hardly merited the mandatory flick of the eyes, just to confirm what he knew. But the thing was, as he tried to look like he wasn't looking at him, he saw a touch of compassion that he had never seen in his eyes before.
"Sir?" asked Harry.
"Quiet Potter, " Snape replied, looking across the room quickly "this is a silent detention."
Harry sighed, and went back to gutting the eel. He saw Snape, putting on his gloves he kept on his desk, stood up and stormed over to a second year Hufflepuff that was cutting the eel the wrong way. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed.
"S-s-s-sir?" Stammered the second year, looking terrified for his life.
"You're cutting it the wrong way, " Replied Snape, uncharacteristically gently, with an even more uncharacteristic smile, "Now, I'll show you again. The last thing I want is wasting these things. They're very expensive for eels. They apparently can conduct magic, as well as having specific healing properties for internal injuries. They'll be needed as the Quidditch season's coming up!"
The second year tittered nervously.
"All right, " and taking the second years hands in his hands he held the knife at a forty five degree angle above the eel, and then gently cut it. "See, it's up, and then down, " he said, repeating the movement, "just up, like that, and down again. Then after that, all you need to do is take the organs out."
"Thank you sir." Replied the second year, the expression on his face belonging usually to those who have faced death and have just realised that they are still alive to tell the tale.
Snape glided across the floor, watching each pupils cutting technique, occasionally accompanying his footstep with phrases such as, "That looks about right." And, "cut deeper girl! You won't get anywhere unless you cut deeper!"
He walked past Harry, and although he looked over his shoulder, he said nothing. Harry was surprised by the lack of insults, but not exactly surprised by the lack of praise. Finally, Snape walked around to the front, and sat back behind his desk. He sat there, watching them, looking very slightly amused before he opened a book about unusual potions ingredients, looking up every so often to make sure that everyone was still working. It was about twenty minutes later when a fifth year Ravenclaw went to the barrel and realised....
"Excuse me sir." The girl coughed politely, "But there're no eels left."
Snape sighed, and looked at his watch. "You still have half an hour of detention left." He said, looking down at all of them, "I shouldn't 've given so many people detention. But, as I did, we might as well do something interesting to pass the time. You've done a pretty good Job,.....Wait. I swear someone's missing. I hope that no one has sneaked off."
"No one's left the room since we came in sir." Said a first year Gryffindor.
"But....where is Ysabelle Todd? She's on the list, but....."
It was at that moment that a piercing shriek ran though the castle.
*********
Snape trudged through the mud, the bottom of his robes soaking wet from the saturated earth, his mood growing much darker as the sun went down, knowing that if he traipsed on long enough, he would be able to find the patch of Deathly night flower, but also knowing that his other self was probably ruining his detention, acting like he was a Saint to those ungrateful brats he taught all day, telling them anything and everything they wanted to know, of course, he wouldn't tell himself anything like that, of course not!
It was at about this time he looked around. He had sworn that he had seen something watching him. He turned away. Anything that had been watching him had obviously lost interest. He turned back, and swore internally. He must have seen this water pool at least six times! He slumped down, put his head in his hands, and growled in frustration. Why had he not checked for the damn plant before? He could've gone out and got it quickly in Hogsmead, but the shop shut at five and it wouldn't open for him. But he hadn't checked for it before, mainly because his double was there. That was it. His double was some sort of test sent by some God with a twisted sense of humour, for his sins. Why else? Why else would this man, this man who looked just like him, but wasn't him in any conceivable way, come and start to take over his life. His mind seemed to be on him all the time; he was probably lost because of him! If his double weren't here, he would have checked his stores, got the deathly night flower at least a day earlier, and even if he hadn't, he would have found the patch by now!
He looked into the slowly darkening water, and felt himself grow angry. Why, of all the things that could happen to him, did this have to happen? Wasn't he miserable enough all ready? Wasn't his life enough like a low grade, meaningless slog across time for the rest of humanity? Why did he have to be punished further? He had nothing. His parents were dead, any other family he had, had disowned him, people walked past him in corridors, whispering, muttering, untrusting, no one talked to him, apart from Dumbledore and the occasional pitying stranger, who soon learned why he was left unspoken to.
James Potter, the bastard, had it all. He was dead, so no one could say anything against him. It didn't matter that James potter was a bully, an idiot or had the fattest head Hogwarts had seen in the whole of it's history, no, it was just fine for him to be that because he could chase a winged ball. He was a dead hero to all those who didn't know him. And Sirius Black, how come he got out of this so easily? He died a hero, his actions explained, the truth about Pettigrew revealed. It didn't matter that Sirius tried to kill him, no, it didn't matter one iota to anyone, except him. He had to admit Remus Lupin wasn't so bad, but that didn't stop him disliking him. He always acted so high and mighty, but he was just a sheep, following everything Potter and Black said.
He hadn't even had much fun as a death eater to be honest. Yes, he got to kill some people he hated, some stupid muggles, but it hadn't been anything that he would want to do again. He had blood on his hands, and for what? A stupid tattoo and left alone to do what he wanted. What good was that? What had his other self done that had allowed him to be so happy? Had he been good at Quidditch? Had he not studied so hard? Had he been placed in a different house?
Snape placed the heels of his palms on his head, and pulled at his long greasy hair. It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair! He chewed his lip, and held his eyes tightly shut. It just didn't seem right to him!
It was in his moment of quiet mediation that he heard a soft voice in the distance. "Just a little further Tommy, I know a nice place to stay for the night. Just a little further....Why did we have to end up here? Why were we abandoned? "
Snape looked up. The soft voice, gentle but full of pointed sadness, inhuman, but strangely humane, the voice like that of a heavenly being. He scanned the hills for a source, but couldn't find it. The sun left an orange ring around the horizon and had become but a yellow dot in his eye line. There was no one. He was alone, just the setting sun, the clouds above that turned everything to a murky orange browny/grey. But as he looked behind himself, he saw two figures walking, knee deep in the dirt, practically wading through.
It was two children. Two small children. The older, taller one wore a ripped and tatty cloak wrapped tightly around its skeletal body. Strands of silver hair fell out of the hood, and the cloak was short, allowing Snape to see the thing, paper white skin on the legs, and the overgrown toenails of the unshod feet. The other was wrapped in a child's woollen blanket even over it's head, and was the shorter of the two. It wore a pair of well fitting boots, but other than this, neither of them looked like that their parents were rich.
Snape, knowing better tan to do this, called out, "hey! You!"
They turned around. The child with the cloak looked at him through black eyes. He looked startled, afraid, terrified even. Snape, one his knee's in the mud said softly, "Don't be scared. Why're you out here?"
"Tommy's ill, " said the little boy, using the same heavenly voice, "He's really ill. My parents are dead. My Sister killed them and threw them away. She threw us away. Please help us."
"What's your name?"
"Ave" he said, his red pupils glinting at him, "Tommy's very hungry. We've been walking all day."
It was when Snape saw the child in the blanket turn to him that he screamed. It was a red-eyed snake-like creature. It looked like someone had tried to transfigure it into a snake, but it had gone wrong and left the child as a half snake. But it was too late. The child removed it's blanket, and shot out at him, digging it's fangs into his arm.
"Voldermort!" he exclaimed, trying to get the weakened thing off his arm, but as he tried, the other child, the silver haired boy held him down, the red pupils, almost as small as pinpricks now, staring down at him madly. He could feel the blood being sucked from his body, he could feel something cold and horrible entering his body. He struggled, but the boy had the strength of ten men. Things started to go hazy, but he could hear what they were saying.
The voice of the thing, the voice he was so familiar with, Lord Voldermort's voice said, "We've found Death Eater blood here. Good and strong!"
Snape wanted to call out, scream that he wasn't a Death Eater, not any more, but the pain; the pain was blocking everything from his mind. His arms were pinned down to the ground by the silver haired boy, but he couldn't. He gasped out in pain. Snape, not for the fist time in his life, though he was about to die. Memories flooded his mind, as if trying to block the pain. Memories of Hogwarts, some good, many he'd rather never think of again, memories of killing, memories of burying a body on the top of a hill, memories of tears, memories of bitter nights spent dreaming of an unattainable revenge, memories of a promised redemption, memories of times he was glad to have lost.
He might have been lost himself if something hadn't toppled on top of him, pulling the silver haired boy off him. He saw a flash of Blood; a flash of silver blade, and the boy lay on the ground, panting as a dark figure, foggy from the blood loss pulled the thing off his arm. But Snape could see enough to know that whatever the thing was, it had grown to almost five foot tall, and looking more like the dark lord at the height of his power than he had ever seen.
He let out a yelp, and tried to pull himself away, but his arms were weak from the blood loss. Then a gruff voice had come up to him and said gruffly, "Thank all the God's you're alive Mr Snape, because you might not be tomorrow! "
Snape felt blood on his face. The man was dripping with Blood. But he felt the man lift up his arm, the one with the Dark Mark on it.
"No!" he gasped, "No!"
"No wonder he found you out here, with this on you. You might as well have advertised your presence here in The Prophet. " Said the voice, "We've got to get you back."
"No!" Snape stammered, pain and poison getting to his brain, "Don't look at it!"
The fuzzy figure sighed and said quietly, "We'll get you back."
*********
Everyone within earshot of the scream ran to the corridor leading to the dungeon. Sev had picked up his wand, holding it out like a muggle holds a gun, and told everyone else in the classroom to take their wands as well.
He was sorely disappointed to see that half of the Slytherin common room had got here first. He shouted and pushed his way through the crowd to see MacDuff, half carrying, half leading Snape to the dungeon. There were a few shocked gasps and shouts, but Sev ignored them as he roared over the crowd, "What happened?"
"I found him!" Shouted MacDuff, "He was half dead."
"Get him into the dungeon!" He snapped, "Quickly!" then he turned his attention to the rest of the crowd. "The rest of you, haven't you got essays to complete? If that isn't the case I'd be more than pleased to remedy it!"
At this threat, the crowd started to disperse. It was at this moment Hermione and Ron arrived, and stood next to Harry who was watching, more than a little amazed.
"What happened?" Asked Hermione simply.
"Yeah Harry, spill the beans!" added Ron, "Or at least tell us that Snape was involved in some sort of life threatening accident!"
"Mr Weasley, am I to believe that you wish me dead?" asked a voice that was far too familiar behind him. There was a second before all of them comprehended the possible fatality of this remark, and then another second when they did. Ron turned around, very, very slowly.
"No sir." He said after a full five seconds of petrified silence, "I'm glad to see that no limbs of yours have been removed."
"Thank you Mr Weasley, " Sev growled in irritation, "I wish the same sentiment on you. Now, I expect you'll be leaving." The silent menace that hung off this phrase made even Hermione quiver with fright. They exchanged looks, and ran off very quickly.
MacDuff came limping from the dungeon and saw Sev, observing the thinning crowd, and encouraging them to leave. "Professor.....Sev, I've taken Snape into his quarters and sent for Madam Pomfery...."
"Thank you MacDuff, but I don't know if she could help. This could be very, very serious."
*********
Notes? Yep!
1/ Sorry abut not updating fast. I'm a slow writer.
2/ I sorta know that the characters in this speak as if they were in a Greek tragedy, and I am truly apologetic about that.
3/ I'll try to get the next part up fast, and I know I've left you with a real cliff hanger, but bear with me!
Thank you; please R and R on your way out :)
Love
GloomRaven - Xandra the Blue.
TBC!
*********
Ten minutes later, the first drabble of detention-nees came into the room, slinking about like a pack of slovenly dogs, this pack, however, including Mr Harry Potter. Before he had left for his detention, Hermione had warned him: "Snape is really in a bad mood about this double business, so be careful!"
Harry had sighed, hoping that for whatever reason, Snape had managed to fall down a mineshaft or been taken away by a pack of hungry hippogriffs before detention. As he saw Snape organising his desk at the front of the room, Harry realised that this wasn't the case, and felt a sense of foreboding suddenly land on top of him. He sighed and took a seat next to a third year Hufflepuff who looked like she was on breaking point. It was at this point he saw the barrel of spark eels. Harry shivered in disgust, and began to read the assorted graffiti on the desk in front of him.
When, finally, all those who should have been present were present, sitting at the back of the dungeon together, they heard a loud voice at the front boom, "All of you, sit at the front, quickly!"
They looked at the expression on Snape's face. It wasn't exactly an angry face, although it could be interpreted that way, it might have been a tired face if it weren't for the faintest tick of the beginnings of a smile on his face. The tick disappeared as they all sat at the front desks, looking more than a little apprehensive.
"Well, well, well, what a sorry looking bunch you are?" he said, a little sarcastically, "Right, this is an hour of my time I don't wish to waste, you will each take a spark eel from the barrel over there, " he, at this moment, lifted on from his desk, holding it so it's head was between his fore finger and thumb, and it's tail wagged a little in the draft, "take the knife, drag it down it's belly," At this point slapped it down on the desk in front of Harry, slitting it open with the intensity and self possession of a man who had done this for his own pleasure in his own time, "and remove the heart, liver and eyes" he cut out the liver and heart easily, but the eyes had to be levered out with Snape's knife. This resulted in one of the eyeballs hitting Harry in the face, while the other fell on a fifth years lap, "Sorry about that, " he said seriously, holding out his hand for the eyes. Harry delicately put the eye on his hand, and the fifth year girl obliged him. "After which, you will put them in the labelled boxes on the table behind you, without mixing them up, the remains of the fish will be piled up, NEATLY and then put back in the barrel, do I make myself clear? " he ended, dangerously.
There was silence.
"Well, did I?" he asked, even more dangerously.
There was a chorus of yes-es.
"Right, I hope you've brought your gloves and overalls with you, or this will be an extremely messy business. " he replied, as he passed out the gutting knives. A few faces indicated that this was the case. Snape sighed. "Alright, there are some spare overalls and gloves by the cabinet over there."
Harry wondered why he was being so civil. But this thought was driven from his mind as he noticed that he was staring at his forehead. Harry automatically covered it up with hair as he wondered why his scar had taken Snape's interest again. When he had first seen it, it had hardly merited the mandatory flick of the eyes, just to confirm what he knew. But the thing was, as he tried to look like he wasn't looking at him, he saw a touch of compassion that he had never seen in his eyes before.
"Sir?" asked Harry.
"Quiet Potter, " Snape replied, looking across the room quickly "this is a silent detention."
Harry sighed, and went back to gutting the eel. He saw Snape, putting on his gloves he kept on his desk, stood up and stormed over to a second year Hufflepuff that was cutting the eel the wrong way. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed.
"S-s-s-sir?" Stammered the second year, looking terrified for his life.
"You're cutting it the wrong way, " Replied Snape, uncharacteristically gently, with an even more uncharacteristic smile, "Now, I'll show you again. The last thing I want is wasting these things. They're very expensive for eels. They apparently can conduct magic, as well as having specific healing properties for internal injuries. They'll be needed as the Quidditch season's coming up!"
The second year tittered nervously.
"All right, " and taking the second years hands in his hands he held the knife at a forty five degree angle above the eel, and then gently cut it. "See, it's up, and then down, " he said, repeating the movement, "just up, like that, and down again. Then after that, all you need to do is take the organs out."
"Thank you sir." Replied the second year, the expression on his face belonging usually to those who have faced death and have just realised that they are still alive to tell the tale.
Snape glided across the floor, watching each pupils cutting technique, occasionally accompanying his footstep with phrases such as, "That looks about right." And, "cut deeper girl! You won't get anywhere unless you cut deeper!"
He walked past Harry, and although he looked over his shoulder, he said nothing. Harry was surprised by the lack of insults, but not exactly surprised by the lack of praise. Finally, Snape walked around to the front, and sat back behind his desk. He sat there, watching them, looking very slightly amused before he opened a book about unusual potions ingredients, looking up every so often to make sure that everyone was still working. It was about twenty minutes later when a fifth year Ravenclaw went to the barrel and realised....
"Excuse me sir." The girl coughed politely, "But there're no eels left."
Snape sighed, and looked at his watch. "You still have half an hour of detention left." He said, looking down at all of them, "I shouldn't 've given so many people detention. But, as I did, we might as well do something interesting to pass the time. You've done a pretty good Job,.....Wait. I swear someone's missing. I hope that no one has sneaked off."
"No one's left the room since we came in sir." Said a first year Gryffindor.
"But....where is Ysabelle Todd? She's on the list, but....."
It was at that moment that a piercing shriek ran though the castle.
*********
Snape trudged through the mud, the bottom of his robes soaking wet from the saturated earth, his mood growing much darker as the sun went down, knowing that if he traipsed on long enough, he would be able to find the patch of Deathly night flower, but also knowing that his other self was probably ruining his detention, acting like he was a Saint to those ungrateful brats he taught all day, telling them anything and everything they wanted to know, of course, he wouldn't tell himself anything like that, of course not!
It was at about this time he looked around. He had sworn that he had seen something watching him. He turned away. Anything that had been watching him had obviously lost interest. He turned back, and swore internally. He must have seen this water pool at least six times! He slumped down, put his head in his hands, and growled in frustration. Why had he not checked for the damn plant before? He could've gone out and got it quickly in Hogsmead, but the shop shut at five and it wouldn't open for him. But he hadn't checked for it before, mainly because his double was there. That was it. His double was some sort of test sent by some God with a twisted sense of humour, for his sins. Why else? Why else would this man, this man who looked just like him, but wasn't him in any conceivable way, come and start to take over his life. His mind seemed to be on him all the time; he was probably lost because of him! If his double weren't here, he would have checked his stores, got the deathly night flower at least a day earlier, and even if he hadn't, he would have found the patch by now!
He looked into the slowly darkening water, and felt himself grow angry. Why, of all the things that could happen to him, did this have to happen? Wasn't he miserable enough all ready? Wasn't his life enough like a low grade, meaningless slog across time for the rest of humanity? Why did he have to be punished further? He had nothing. His parents were dead, any other family he had, had disowned him, people walked past him in corridors, whispering, muttering, untrusting, no one talked to him, apart from Dumbledore and the occasional pitying stranger, who soon learned why he was left unspoken to.
James Potter, the bastard, had it all. He was dead, so no one could say anything against him. It didn't matter that James potter was a bully, an idiot or had the fattest head Hogwarts had seen in the whole of it's history, no, it was just fine for him to be that because he could chase a winged ball. He was a dead hero to all those who didn't know him. And Sirius Black, how come he got out of this so easily? He died a hero, his actions explained, the truth about Pettigrew revealed. It didn't matter that Sirius tried to kill him, no, it didn't matter one iota to anyone, except him. He had to admit Remus Lupin wasn't so bad, but that didn't stop him disliking him. He always acted so high and mighty, but he was just a sheep, following everything Potter and Black said.
He hadn't even had much fun as a death eater to be honest. Yes, he got to kill some people he hated, some stupid muggles, but it hadn't been anything that he would want to do again. He had blood on his hands, and for what? A stupid tattoo and left alone to do what he wanted. What good was that? What had his other self done that had allowed him to be so happy? Had he been good at Quidditch? Had he not studied so hard? Had he been placed in a different house?
Snape placed the heels of his palms on his head, and pulled at his long greasy hair. It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair! He chewed his lip, and held his eyes tightly shut. It just didn't seem right to him!
It was in his moment of quiet mediation that he heard a soft voice in the distance. "Just a little further Tommy, I know a nice place to stay for the night. Just a little further....Why did we have to end up here? Why were we abandoned? "
Snape looked up. The soft voice, gentle but full of pointed sadness, inhuman, but strangely humane, the voice like that of a heavenly being. He scanned the hills for a source, but couldn't find it. The sun left an orange ring around the horizon and had become but a yellow dot in his eye line. There was no one. He was alone, just the setting sun, the clouds above that turned everything to a murky orange browny/grey. But as he looked behind himself, he saw two figures walking, knee deep in the dirt, practically wading through.
It was two children. Two small children. The older, taller one wore a ripped and tatty cloak wrapped tightly around its skeletal body. Strands of silver hair fell out of the hood, and the cloak was short, allowing Snape to see the thing, paper white skin on the legs, and the overgrown toenails of the unshod feet. The other was wrapped in a child's woollen blanket even over it's head, and was the shorter of the two. It wore a pair of well fitting boots, but other than this, neither of them looked like that their parents were rich.
Snape, knowing better tan to do this, called out, "hey! You!"
They turned around. The child with the cloak looked at him through black eyes. He looked startled, afraid, terrified even. Snape, one his knee's in the mud said softly, "Don't be scared. Why're you out here?"
"Tommy's ill, " said the little boy, using the same heavenly voice, "He's really ill. My parents are dead. My Sister killed them and threw them away. She threw us away. Please help us."
"What's your name?"
"Ave" he said, his red pupils glinting at him, "Tommy's very hungry. We've been walking all day."
It was when Snape saw the child in the blanket turn to him that he screamed. It was a red-eyed snake-like creature. It looked like someone had tried to transfigure it into a snake, but it had gone wrong and left the child as a half snake. But it was too late. The child removed it's blanket, and shot out at him, digging it's fangs into his arm.
"Voldermort!" he exclaimed, trying to get the weakened thing off his arm, but as he tried, the other child, the silver haired boy held him down, the red pupils, almost as small as pinpricks now, staring down at him madly. He could feel the blood being sucked from his body, he could feel something cold and horrible entering his body. He struggled, but the boy had the strength of ten men. Things started to go hazy, but he could hear what they were saying.
The voice of the thing, the voice he was so familiar with, Lord Voldermort's voice said, "We've found Death Eater blood here. Good and strong!"
Snape wanted to call out, scream that he wasn't a Death Eater, not any more, but the pain; the pain was blocking everything from his mind. His arms were pinned down to the ground by the silver haired boy, but he couldn't. He gasped out in pain. Snape, not for the fist time in his life, though he was about to die. Memories flooded his mind, as if trying to block the pain. Memories of Hogwarts, some good, many he'd rather never think of again, memories of killing, memories of burying a body on the top of a hill, memories of tears, memories of bitter nights spent dreaming of an unattainable revenge, memories of a promised redemption, memories of times he was glad to have lost.
He might have been lost himself if something hadn't toppled on top of him, pulling the silver haired boy off him. He saw a flash of Blood; a flash of silver blade, and the boy lay on the ground, panting as a dark figure, foggy from the blood loss pulled the thing off his arm. But Snape could see enough to know that whatever the thing was, it had grown to almost five foot tall, and looking more like the dark lord at the height of his power than he had ever seen.
He let out a yelp, and tried to pull himself away, but his arms were weak from the blood loss. Then a gruff voice had come up to him and said gruffly, "Thank all the God's you're alive Mr Snape, because you might not be tomorrow! "
Snape felt blood on his face. The man was dripping with Blood. But he felt the man lift up his arm, the one with the Dark Mark on it.
"No!" he gasped, "No!"
"No wonder he found you out here, with this on you. You might as well have advertised your presence here in The Prophet. " Said the voice, "We've got to get you back."
"No!" Snape stammered, pain and poison getting to his brain, "Don't look at it!"
The fuzzy figure sighed and said quietly, "We'll get you back."
*********
Everyone within earshot of the scream ran to the corridor leading to the dungeon. Sev had picked up his wand, holding it out like a muggle holds a gun, and told everyone else in the classroom to take their wands as well.
He was sorely disappointed to see that half of the Slytherin common room had got here first. He shouted and pushed his way through the crowd to see MacDuff, half carrying, half leading Snape to the dungeon. There were a few shocked gasps and shouts, but Sev ignored them as he roared over the crowd, "What happened?"
"I found him!" Shouted MacDuff, "He was half dead."
"Get him into the dungeon!" He snapped, "Quickly!" then he turned his attention to the rest of the crowd. "The rest of you, haven't you got essays to complete? If that isn't the case I'd be more than pleased to remedy it!"
At this threat, the crowd started to disperse. It was at this moment Hermione and Ron arrived, and stood next to Harry who was watching, more than a little amazed.
"What happened?" Asked Hermione simply.
"Yeah Harry, spill the beans!" added Ron, "Or at least tell us that Snape was involved in some sort of life threatening accident!"
"Mr Weasley, am I to believe that you wish me dead?" asked a voice that was far too familiar behind him. There was a second before all of them comprehended the possible fatality of this remark, and then another second when they did. Ron turned around, very, very slowly.
"No sir." He said after a full five seconds of petrified silence, "I'm glad to see that no limbs of yours have been removed."
"Thank you Mr Weasley, " Sev growled in irritation, "I wish the same sentiment on you. Now, I expect you'll be leaving." The silent menace that hung off this phrase made even Hermione quiver with fright. They exchanged looks, and ran off very quickly.
MacDuff came limping from the dungeon and saw Sev, observing the thinning crowd, and encouraging them to leave. "Professor.....Sev, I've taken Snape into his quarters and sent for Madam Pomfery...."
"Thank you MacDuff, but I don't know if she could help. This could be very, very serious."
*********
Notes? Yep!
1/ Sorry abut not updating fast. I'm a slow writer.
2/ I sorta know that the characters in this speak as if they were in a Greek tragedy, and I am truly apologetic about that.
3/ I'll try to get the next part up fast, and I know I've left you with a real cliff hanger, but bear with me!
Thank you; please R and R on your way out :)
Love
GloomRaven - Xandra the Blue.
TBC!