The Other Side Of The Dark: Chapter 23

'I need to speak to you,' said Shacklebolt in a low voice.

'It'll have to wait at least an hour,' Moody replied, 'I'm not quite finished here.'

Shacklebolt nodded. 'Okay. I'll be in the kitchen.'

The door closed. Dumbledore laid Snape's hand back on the bed at his side. Snape was staring at the ceiling, blinking slowly as if trying to keep from falling asleep. Both of Moody's eyes were fixed on him, a dark frown forming.

'I congratulate you, Alastor,' Dumbledore said quietly. Moody's attention snapped to him as if he had forgotten Dumbledore was still there. He grunted.

'Thanks, but there's still a hell of a way to go. Everything I said about his physical condition still applies. I think I'd better get on with healing his back right now – I should have finished it earlier. Very nasty wound.'

There was a pregnant silence in which the two old wizards held each others' gaze as if trying to decide whether to say more. Eventually Dumbledore nodded, rising and moving towards the door. 'Then I shall leave you to it, and look forward to seeing you both later tomorrow – or should that be today?' He smiled gently as he closed the door behind him, but Moody's attention was already focused back on Snape.

Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, feeling strangely disgruntled. If anyone had asked him, he would have been hard put to explain exactly what was wrong. At the back of it was an odd longing to talk to someone, about anything. But everyone had gone to bed, even Hedwig, who was just visible on top of the wardrobe, head tucked under one snowy wing. Only Harry was wide awake and at a loose end.

The light from the street lamp was brighter in here than in Snape's room, and it shone right onto the bed. It was bright enough to read, and Harry suddenly remembered that someone had brought him a book. He put on his glasses and had a look round. There was nothing on the bed… but on the other side, a large book-shaped parcel had fallen on the floor, along with a letter and a couple of scrolls. He dumped the lot in the middle of the bed, then drew the curtains back to get as much light in as possible. Making a mental note to ask Lupin how to turn on the gas lamps without magic, Harry sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and began to unwrap the book.

Moody stared down at Snape, a small smile playing at his lips. The exultation of successfully casting the charm which had returned Snape and Harry to the land of the living was fading, overtaken by the realisation that what he had wanted so badly for so long was almost in his reach. Snape still stared at the ceiling, cold black eyes pointedly avoiding Moody's gaze.

Moody reached down to check the carotid pulse, and Snape flinched under the touch, nostrils flaring slightly. The old wizard wrapped his large fingers gently around the back of Snape's neck, forcing his head around until they were facing each other. Moody gave a nasty smile.

'Welcome back, Snape,' he growled. 'Thought we'd lost you there for a moment. But old Moody wasn't going to give up that easily. He never does.'

Snape swallowed.

'Your throat's a bit dry, but I've got something to make that better.' Moody took a bottle from a pocket of his cloak and poured a few drops onto Snape's throat, gently rubbing it into the skin with his thumb. 'And then you and I will be able to have a nice long chat while I finish healing your back. It's going to hurt, but I can see a bit of physical pain won't bother you.'

The book was large and fat and all about Occlumency, so Harry decided to read it later. The letter was from Dumbledore, about the Occlumency book, and Harry read it at a glance, then tucked inside the book's leather cover. That left a very fat scroll with a broken seal, and a much thinner one with a seal which looked a bit like the Gringotts bank crest. Harry opened it.

Dear Mr Potter,

This is to inform you that you are named in the will of the late Mr Sirius Black, of no fixed address, England. Mr Black's executors, Gringotts Bank, therefore invite you to call at our premises in Diagon Alley at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Master of Private Accounts,

Gringotts Bank

England

Sirius' will. Harry closed his eyes, the letter crumpling slightly in his tightening grip. Of course Sirius would have had a will – he was rich. And after everything that happened, where else to keep it than Gringotts Bank? Harry smoothed the letter out and re-rolled it, pushing it under the pillow. It was the early hours of Sunday, so he would have to wait at least a day to go to Gringotts anyway. But somehow, he didn't really want to go. A bleak sense of despair welled up, and he sank his head into his hands with a sigh.

'Harry Potter sir?'

Harry started. Dobby the house elf was standing on the bed just in front of him, bulbous green eyes filled with concern.

'Dobby has Severus Snape's Pensieve, Harry Potter sir,' the little elf whispered. 'Dobby hopes he is not too late.'

'No!' Harry said, 'You're not too late – well, Moody managed to break the charm, but Snape's okay.'

Dobby's huge eyes widened. 'Dobby was too late,' he moaned. 'The charm protecting Harry Potter has been broken!' He jumped off the bed and ran to the wall separating them from Snape's room. 'And the One-Eyed Wizard is still there, still keeping Severus Snape prisoner!'

Harry slid off the bed after him. 'It's okay, Dobby, Snape's going to be fine, and so am I. Look, I've got this book from Dumbledore about how to protect my mind by myself. Snape will get better, and everything will be all right.'

But Dobby had his face pressed against the wall, long nose flattened down, as if he could see through it. 'The One-Eyed Wizard is hurting Severus Snape!' he said, and Harry perceived a note of something he had never previously heard in the little elf's voice. 'Dobby must go!'

And to Harry's amazement, Dobby took a few steps back, then ran straight through the wall as if it wasn't there.

Snape lay on his stomach, propped up on two pillows so his back was raised while his head flopped onto the mattress, giving him a sideways view of the room. Above him, out of his range of vision, Moody calmly excised a section of damaged skin from between his shoulder blades with a small, razor sharp knife. It was a peculiar sensation. Not what Snape would have described as painful, but somehow intense and vaguely nauseating. His remaining hand clenched around the edge of the bed and his breathing became shallower and faster. He was glad his throat didn't hurt anymore, because if he had to endure much more of this, he thought he might scream.

'There,' said Moody, dropping the bruised and bloody strip of flesh into a silver dish, 'That wasn't so bad, was it?'

He caught Snape's wrist as the fingers relaxed, and measured the pulse. Still fine, if a bit fast, like his respiration. Skin a bit clammy too; so now might be a good time to pause. No good if the man fainted before he could answer any questions.

'Frank Longbottom died,' Moody said in a conversational tone. 'Did you know?'

No answer.

'Only you ran off at about the same time, so I thought you might have missed hearing about that. Or maybe you knew more about it than the rest of us?'

Snape made a peculiar snarling noise in the back of his throat.

'That's not very nice, Snape,' Moody murmured, lifting another piece of damaged flesh with the point of the knife. 'Not after I've worked so hard to heal the damage you've caused. You nearly killed yourself. Was that your intention?'

There was an angry whimper, and the narrow fingers closed hard around the edge of the bed. Moody gave a grim smile, momentarily glancing up – and his magical eye narrowed on the sight of something quite unexpected. A house-elf, bizarrely dressed, was glaring at him through the wall from Harry's room, the boy himself kneeling just behind it. He saw its mouth move in words he couldn't hear, and then suddenly the little creature ran straight towards him, an accusing hand pointing fiercely as it came to a halt on the other side of the bed.

'You will let Severus Snape go right now!' the house-elf shrieked. 'You have no right to touch him! You will free him now!'

From the corner of his normal eye, Moody saw Snape's ghostly hand stretch towards the house-elf. He straightened up, moving the knife carefully away from Snape's back, and gave the house-elf his full attention. There seemed something familiar about it, although he didn't think he had ever seen a house-elf dressed quite like this.

'And who are you, house-elf, to address me thus?' he growled. 'I am a Ministry Auror, engaged upon Ministry business. How dare you challenge me?'

The door burst open at that point, and Harry dashed in with a shout of, 'Dobby, wait!' – and then froze at the scene which greeted him. The room was almost in darkness, only one candle lit on the table which held Moody's potions and equipment, and the light cast by the street lamp. It gave the room an eerie quality, a tableau rendered in shadows of the large wizard holding a bloodied knife and the tiny elf pointing angrily up at him.

'I am no house-elf, One-Eyed Wizard!' Dobby shrilled; but now his voice seemed to be changing, getting deeper as he went on, 'I am a free elf! No more the slave of wizards!'

The last word came out as a growl which made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up. Dobby abruptly hunched forward, a small shadowy figure suddenly smaller, bat-like ears trembling violently. Then as he curled further forward, Harry noticed the pale woolly jumper begin to stretch, tighten – then split. Dobby stretched out little arms which were suddenly much bigger, as what looked like a bunched fist turned out to be an elbow joint. The hunched figure began to rise on sinewy legs that ended in clawed feet, reaching out with long muscled arms to pluck the knife from Moody's frozen grasp with a knobbly, taloned hand.

'We need fear you no longer, Wizard,' Dobby roared. 'Free Severus Snape NOW!'

Moody did not move. The creature he was now facing was bigger than him and bore almost no resemblance to any elf he had ever clapped eyes on in his life. It occurred to him that there may once have been a compelling reason for the enslavement of the elves; but how it had been managed, if this was what they once had been, he surely did not know.

'Dobby?'

The massive elf turned slowly towards the voice. 'Harry Potter sir!' he rumbled. The once bulbous green eyes burned in deep, slanted sockets, and Harry couldn't help noticing that features which had always seemed almost comically out of scale were now in perfect proportion. The elf looked truly demonic; but Harry felt a deep certainty that inside, Dobby had not changed at all. He took a step forward, gazing up into the huge face.

'Please don't be angry, Dobby,' he said. 'Snape really is all right, look – you can see he's still alive. I'm sure he's not really a prisoner – he's just too badly hurt to move.'

Harry looked towards Moody, who seemed transfixed. 'When Moody's finished healing him, he'll be able to go with you. Won't he?'

Moody said nothing, but Dobby glowered. 'No,' he growled. 'The One-Eyed Wizard has imprisoned Severus Snape with wards bound to those of this house. Dobby can break them easily, but if he does, those on the house will be broken as well. Dobby will not easily risk his friend Harry Potter.'

Moody took a deep breath. 'I will release Snape when I am finished with him,' he said gruffly. 'There is information I require from him. Until then, the wards remain in place.'

'Extra wards, Alastor?' Harry spun round to see Dumbledore and Shacklebolt standing in the doorway. Shacklebolt was staring at Dobby with a fascinated expression, but Dumbledore was glaring at Moody.

'Yes, damn it, Albus!' Moody burst out. 'Did you really think I wouldn't? All your revelations tonight – what difference does it make? I'm not letting him go until I know EVERYTHING!' He slid a sideways glance at Dobby, normal eye glittering. 'And our friend here can't do a thing about it. So if you want me to do what you want – either of you – then you'd better be prepared to give me a bit more of what I want!'

'The One-Eyed Wizard has questions,' Dobby growled, before anyone could speak. 'The One-Eyed Wizard always has questions, but he never listens to the answers. He has never been able to see the truth. But Dobby may have something the One-Eyed Wizard wants, if he will free Severus Snape.'

Moody glared at the elf. 'Go on, then. What can you give me?'

Dobby shambled back towards the window, and cupped his hands together. As they watched, something small and dark, dotted with points of bright light, began to form between them. Dobby drew his hands slowly apart, the object growing as he did so, until suddenly he was holding a large black dish. Moody caught his breath.

It was Snape's Pensieve.

Thank you all very very much for the reviews!

HumanTales: I'm really flattered someone linked my story in their archive – please give whoever's responsible my thanks!

Barbara: thanks for the tip about spaces - sadly it didn't work, so I've just put in the line divider instead. Most annoying. Don't know why is so awkward about some types of formatting. Never mind though, sorted now!

Huge hugs and cuddles to everyone else! Wish I had more time to thank you more personally like I used to, but please do know that each review is very gratefully received. Thank you :)