Disclaimer: The characters and the universe of Harry Potter belong to J.K Rowling. No disrespect is intended. This story is written for sheer enjoyment. No profit is being made from it. The story itself is mine.

The Puppet's Master

Chapter 3

The Headmaster sat in his office after Ron Weasley had left. The red-haired youth had run full-tilt down the corridors towards the Headmaster's office. After an amusing session of watching the youngest Weasley boy try to guess the password, Albus took pity on him and prompted the suggestion into his mind.

Upon entering the office, Ron took no time at all to collect his thoughts; consequently, all the Headmaster received was a garbled story about Harry's scar, pain and fainting. In fact, if it weren't for his prized scrying glass, Albus would have had absolutely no clue of what Mr. Weasley was jabbering on about. As it was, nothing could get by the Headmaster's scrying glass, hence the rumors of him being all-knowing.

Albus Dumbledore heaved a tired sigh. He had dutifully played his part, offered a lemon drop, listened attentively to Mr. Weasley's concerns and then spouted some meaningless drivel about how everything would be okay. How could it not be okay? After all, the most powerful wizard in the Wizarding world said it would be. And to assure that continues, Mr. Potter will serve his use for me, and then will be disposed of.

Leaning back in his chair with a grin more reminiscent of a Death Eater at a Dark Revel than the paragon of Good he was purported to be, Dumbledore spit out the lemon drop he had put in his mouth when Ron came into his office. Gods, but I hate those things. First thing to change after I win the war, anyone selling those infernal 'candies' will be Avada'd so fast heads will spin!

Smiling once more, Albus Dumbledore became lost in the visions of a perfect Wizarding world. His Wizarding world.

When Harry regained consciousness, the first thing he did was to glance around in a panic, hoping to avert Ron from running to the Headmaster. Over the past two years, Harry's faith in Dumbledore had gradually become less and less of what it once was. I wonder if I have a place at all in this world, other than just another pawn of the 'Great Albus Dumbledore.'

Once he was sitting up and scanning the common room, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Alas, his relief was to be short-lived as his red-haired best-friend once again opened his mouth.

"It's okay now, Harry. I told Dumbledore everything. He'll take care of it now, so you don't have to worry." Ron mistakenly assumed this would make Harry feel better. However, a quick glance at Ginny proved that he was the only person present who seemed to believe it wasn't such a good idea to tell the Headmaster of his recent episode.

"Oh, Ron," Harry sighed. "I really wished you hadn't done that."

Upon seeing Ron's confused face, Harry forced himself to brighten his countenance.

"I mean, he already has so much to worry about as it is." Whew, thought Harry. That was close.

Ron just patted him on the back. "You can't carry the world, Harry. Let Dumbledore help you."

Harry just nodded and turned to walk up the stairs to the boy's dorms. You mean let Dumbledore help himself. I'm not so sure anymore that the Wizarding world will be any better off under him than under Voldemort. I wish Hermione were here.

Harry's head snapped up. It had been hours since he had last seen Hermione. He briefly remembered seeing her at breakfast, but then she had run out for some reason. It was now well past five in the evening and she had yet to turn up.

He turned around and questioned Ron. "Ron, have you seen Hermione any since breakfast?"

Ron cocked his head to the side, thinking back. "No, mate. She was in a right mood this morning, though. She's probably just in the Library. She'll turn up when she's ready."

"Yeah. That's probably it. The Library." So saying, Harry turned back around and resumed his trek to his bed and solitude.

He heard Ginny call after him asking if it wouldn't be better to go to Madam Pomphrey, but he just waved the question away. His own bed was what he needed.

His last thought before crawling into the familiar covers and lending himself to the land of Nod was to wonder if there would be a third choice, someone other than Dumbledore and Voldemort in the coming contest. At this point, I think I'd rather side with the unknown.

In the bowels of the castle, Hermione Granger slept fitfully. Her mindscape consumed by dreams so real, they could only be visions. Her senses so finely tuned to the dream, she could swear under Veritaserum that she was really there.

She saw Professor Snape appear out of thin air and walk towards a clearing. The sounds indicated he was far from civilization. The very air seemed to be permeated with evil. In this foul miasma, Professor Snape stood proud and unbent, walking towards the originator of so many nightmares with an unhurried confident gait.

She wanted to cry out to him to be careful, to be safe, to come back… to her. She could not understand why she would put that last bit in, but this was her dream, so she figured it was all right. All thought abruptly left her mind as his head raised and his fire-filled dark eyes captured her mind's eye.

"Beloved, you must not be here now. I will return to you, never fear. Dream now your innocent dreams, as the time for innocence does not last forever."

And with that, her dreamscape switched to a different scenario, one in which she was smiling and happy, lying in the grass, talking and cuddling with Severus Snape!

Once again, she shrugged this off. She had held him in fascination for a while now, so why shouldn't she dream of him. As she sank deeper into her fantasy, she smiled and breathed a single word. "Severus…"

Miles away, Severus Snape nodded in satisfaction. The things that would be done this night should not be seen by his beloved. He needed her trust and her love. The punishment he would be exacting from his estranged servant tonight, while due and just, would not put her at ease.

Raising his psyche to test the currents of magic in the area, he deduced that he had a few hours before he should make his presence known. Voldemort was a fool to think he would be able to sense Severus Snape with the simple spells he usually used. Then again, Severus had never given him any reason to doubt that he could.

Turning on his heel, he strode towards a copse of trees on the edge of the moor. Once within their shelter, he shielded and warded his presence more strongly and sat down to meditate. It would not do for his last acting performance to be anything but phenomenal. And by the end of the night, there would be one less menace to the Wizarding world.

AN: I feel I owe everyone an apology, as I know that I for one was looking forward to the showdown between Voldemort and Severus. Unfortunately, I do not feel I could do the scene justice at the present time, so that will be the next update. I apologize for the delay, but I would rather take my time and get it right than slap it together quickly and hope for the best.

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