DISCLAIMER: Rowling is the Queen of Harry Potter's Universe. Severus Snape is the Prince and her own child. So I suppose I cannot be taken as anything more than a humble servant of the Royal Family.
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Chapter 1
Aren't we the warriors?
It was nearly the middle of the holidays and there was frost on Dursley's lawn. Of course, it might be qualified as one of the Unidentified Weather Symptoms of rapidly changing climate, especially as long as you were a Muggle. Harry wasn't, so instead of watching Muggle TV where climatologists and blurry-eyed visionaries were prophesying about the end of the world, universe and everything, he subscribed to the Daily Prophet.
It was quite informative, those days. E.g. last week there was an article about the number of war casualties, followed by a very long and very detailed explanation why the Ministry's Aurors seemed to do nothing about the Death Eater's attacks. Even more interesting was a scientific report on Dementors and how their number have already overstepped the limits of environment's capacity.
If there were any signs of the Order's activity, they were few and far between. Maybe it was because the Order members haven't yet shook off the shock of Dumbledore's death. More probably, they were at loss of what to do. Both reasons were equally depressing and day after long day Harry felt a cold dread rising slowly in his chest: they were on a lost position.
Loads of articles last month were committed to the mysterious Dumbledore's godson, monsieur Sergius Wolvein. Well, Harry supposed that in desperate times people clung to desperate hopes. Not, that he wasn't impressed by what the young French have done. Hogwart's was still safe, maybe even more than previously. Monsieur Wolvein surrounded the castle with the strongest wards known by the wizard's society. They were a set of extremely complicated arthimantic protections, called 'The Wall of Fire'. Hermione in her letter described them as 'bloody brilliant' and that, coming from her disciplined mouth, must have counted for something. The wards were pretty restrictive, as well. Other rooms than the strictly necessary ones were closed off completely by the charm. No people without the special key build into their fingertips were able to get into the castle. The Hogwart's practically became a fortress. Oddly enough, that piece of information seemed to be comforting for many student's parents which haven't any objections to let their children return to the castle at the beginning of the school year.
All thanks to Sergius Wolvein. Or Alcar Wolvein, as the public was referring to him. This was the most confusing thing for Harry. Honestly, what was wrong with his first name? Was this little similarity to Albus Dumbledore so important? People probably thought monsieur Wolvein to be their saviour.
Ha. Quite obviously, Sergius Wolvein couldn't care less. Right after amazing the whole community by casting The Wall of Fire, he disappeared at the other side of the English Channel. He didn't even looked back, nor he have said a word about his abrupt departure. It was even worse that stating officially that it wasn't his war to fight.
Harry was livid. Honestly, what was the late Headmaster playing at? Firstly, the unwavering trust he placed in his murderer, now this. How he dared to give people hope only to take it away? More days Harry thought about it, more he felt he couldn't be passive. Because this WAS his war to fight, and he felt a desperate need to help, to do something for greater good, not only to rot in this Muggle hole to the end of the world. So at last today he gathered his Gryffindor courage and began to write a letter to Sergius Wolvein. Maybe just once his forever damned status of The Boy Who Lived will help him to win this battle.
After all, he was a warrior.
He just have put his final thoughts on a parchment when the screeching aunt Petunia's voice demanded his presence on a dinner. He muttered some obscenities, shoved the parchment aside and descended the stairs to the kitchen.
"Still eating our dinner?" barked uncle Vernon the moment he spotted Harry. "Aren't you ashamed, boy? Because you should be! With the fortune your bloody godfather left you, you should pay for your meals!"
"Thank you so much, uncle" said Harry coldly, sitting on his chair. "Don't you worry. Only four more days and I promise I will not bother you anymore. Check your calendar, uncle! ONLY four days!"
"What a cheek this boy have! I hope that you will take with you this freaking weather changes. I will NOT tolerate the frost in the midsummer!"
"Vernon…" muttered aunt Petunia with a hint of fear in her voice. "It's not only us… It's the whole England…"
"Yes, and it's all the doing of the freaks like him! I can't believe that the Prime Minister…"
Suddenly, a blazing green light flashed outside, startling the whole family. Mr. Dursley just opened his mouth to share an ironic commentary about little criminals playing with fireworks near the decent people's houses when Harry leapt to his feet and run outside.
"Where are you going, come back here this instant!" roared Vernon Dursley. Harry haven't heard. Blood pounded in his ears when he galloped along the street in direction of a frighteningly familiar house. He hoped he could fly. He also hoped, beyond hope, that the worst haven't happened yet.
It was a slim chance, seeing that there was a Dark Mark hovering above Arabella Figg's house.
'They have murdered her!' thought Harry furiously, running harder. 'She was a Squib, for God's sake! She was defenseless and they murdered her! It must be Him, this slimy, traitorous coward!'
Somewhere deep in his agitated mind was a thought that he shouldn't go there. That he was what they were waiting for. But he didn't care. A need for revenge were stronger than the rational part of him. He won't let anybody kill the innocents right under his nose.
He dashed in through the open doors. The house was oddly silent. Breathing heavily, he stood in the entrance of the living room and gulped.
Whoever have done this, must be by now far away.
Arabella Figg's body was lying sprawled on the carpet. Her eyes were opened, staring at the ceiling and there was still traces of pain on her face. They must have interrogated her before she died. Around her Harry saw three of her cats, also motionless and one hundred percent dead.
Someone's frightened cry waked him. Harry blinked, looked once more at the shocking scene and darted out of the house. So, the Death Eaters probably knew by now where he lived. Harry supposed that the only thing stopping them from capturing him was Dumbledore's securities. But four more days and the securities would be no longer present. He must leave the last members of his family and do it quickly. There was still a chance that, if the Death Eaters get to know that he is elsewhere, they will not kill Dursleys.
"Where have you been?" Vernon Dursley's face was adorned with the ugly reddish splotches. "What's that…"
"I'm leaving. Now." said Harry, pushing uncle Vernon aside and running upstairs. There was a noise of heavy footsteps and Vernon Dursley stood at his bedroom's door.
"Why now? We have heard that you are staying four more…"
"Are you going to miss me?" snarled Harry, throwing his robes into the trunk. "Because I don't think so! Some things get complicated so I must hasten our farewell. You know, as nasty as you are, I don't wish your death, so let me be! Goodbye, uncle Vernon!"
Harry picked up the letter he was writing before dinner and looked through it. It should be good enough. He scribbled his name at the bottom, rolled the parchment and opened Hedwig's cage. The snow owl looked at him questioningly.
"Hedwig, I have a job for you. It's very important so don't save your wings. You will take this letter to Sergius Alcar Wolvein, wherever he is. Don't leave until he reads it."
The owl hooted in confirmation, took the parchment and flew through the window. Harry, not looking at uncle Vernon, who was still standing at the doors gawking at him, took his trunk and walked downstairs. He left it on the pavement and returned for the rest of his possessions.
He once more looked over his room.
No, there was nothing of his left in this house. Three more years, and Dursleys will forget that he even existed.
"Harry, you will tell Dumbledore, that we haven't failed, won't you?" asked aunt Petunia nervously from inside the kitchen.
"Like Hell I will" muttered Harry Potter, closing the main door. For one moment he stood at the pavement, pondering over the absolute lack of any kind of farewell. Finally, he shrugged and took out his wand.
The Knight Bus was as huge and purple as the first time Harry used it. Pity, that Shunpike wasn't as cheerful. He looked at Harry blandly and muttered "Get in."
"The Burrow. Quickly, please" said Harry.
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Their meetings, so far, were held in exactly the same kind of isolated, damp and murky places. There was a substantial benefit to them – no kind of sane person could be caught wandering anywhere nearby, disturbing the absolute secrecy of said meetings.
Today was no different. This place wasn't less murky nor damp, especially as the summer day wore out and the huge, dark green leaves were dripping with water. He stood in the middle of a small clearing inside the dark forest, waiting patiently for Dark Lord to deal with the rest of his minors.
Clearly, Voldemort wasn't at his best. What the Dumbledore's demise done good for him was erased by the shockingly effective ward put on Hogwart's by the unknown French arthimancy specialist. He was still seething after this last punch from the late Headmaster, so he wasn't today in particularly forgiving mood. Severus listened with interest as he raged about the next time his skillful Death Eaters failed to catch Harry Potter. Interesting enough, it was the first time he have heard about this particular attempt. No, he wasn't foolish enough to dream of knowing about all Dark Lord's plans, but it would be nice if he had more faith in his second-in-command.
Suddenly, he found himself looking straight into dark red reptilian eyes. He was quite alone now, of course if you didn't count Bellatrix standing nearby, wearing a triumphant smile. The rest of miserable lot scurried away after a proper punishment.
"I should consider this in the future" hissed the Dark Lord.
Severus bowed deeply, breaking the eye-contact. Long, black and slightly unkempt strands of black hair obscuring his face have hidden his discomfort. "Thank you, my master. I shall never disappoint you."
"I think so. My patience is wearing thin, Severus. I understand there is still no trace of young Draco and his mother?"
Was there a whisper of a threat? Snape felt a slight chill running along his spine. He straightened and shook his head. "No, my master."
"We will let this matter rest. Temporarily. Malfoys might yet prove to be useful. Yes, and this lead us straight to your mission. You don't mind visiting Azakaban, do you?"
Severus noticed that there was mud stuck to his soles. Nearly, Bella made an sharp intake of breath. "Everything for you, my master" she croaked. Severus gave him a curt nod.
"Good. You will go there together and free every remaining Death Eater. You will order them to wait for my summon. Also, I want one more man from there. Huckley Eldebert. You will bring Eldebert to me as quickly as it is possible. Any questions, Bella?"
"Forgive me, master, but how…"
Voldemort, actually, laughed.
"It's sometimes profitable to have Dementors at your side. I was recently presented with a beautiful set of keys to Azakaban, as a payment for their debt. A most unusual set of keys, I think."
The Dark Lord smiled and for one moment he looked like one of his happiness-sucking supporters.
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"What were you thinking, Snape, bringing me to this Godforsaken pub?" muttered Bella angrily, pushing her hood deeper on her eyes. "The Aurors are roaming everywhere! Do you really want to stay in Azakaban for longer than planned?"
Snape sneered at the black and white picture of himself, scowling at him from the nearest poster. His imitation was squeezed between the huge black letters: "Wanted alive or dead" and a little smaller ones: "Prize: 10 000 galleons". 'Well, I'm famous at last', he mused. 'Wonder, if I should made them increase the prize for my head. Ten thousand feel… insulting'.
"Don't worry your beautiful head over this, Bella." he said a touch snidely. "The owner is an old acquaintance of mine, telling on us would be ill-advised for him. Besides, you need a large amount of alcohol to survive the experience. Me too."
Lestrange giggled hysterically. "Oh, Snape. Charming as always. This picture of you is awful. Whoever have made it?"
"You think I should consider murdering the whole Creevey's family? Why not, the prize might hit one million galleons, then."
"Watch out, Snape, you are tempting me!"
Severus smirked and looked around the dark inn. Little round candles gave away only enough light to create an atmosphere of comfortable anonymity. There were other people around, but no one was looking at them. It wasn't encouraged in "Devil's due".
Snape took a sip of his firewhisky. Bella downed a glass in three gulps and demanded more. Her eyes became decidedly glassy.
"So, Sevvy, how are you going to get through the guards?" she slurred.
"Use that nonexistent brain of yours, Bella" muttered Severus. "Dementor's keys open dementor's secret passages. There are places in Azakaban where no man was seen since the Grinewald wars. The passages lead to the caves near the sea. From there we catch a portkey to England."
"Oh, good that you are such a great brain, Snape. Because I have thought that this mission may turn out to be a wee difficult. Forgive me that I have ever doubted your ingenuity."
"Of course it will be difficult. I have thought you rather like challenges, don't you, Lestrange?"
"I'm lovin' it. Let's seal our agreement with a kiss."
"Merlin, but you are drunk!" hissed Snape, moving back on his chair, his face screwed up in disgust.
"Relax, Snape. I don't care to know how you taste after this month of hiding." She smiled cruelly. "And when it come to other things… Maybe the next time I will catch you unguarded."
"Never in my life."
They eyed each other for a long moment. Bella looked considerate and a little bit playful, Snape was wary. Eventually, they ended their staring contest and returned to their beverages.
"So, what do you know about this Huckley Eldebert? Do you have any idea why the Dark Lord needs him?"
Snape blinked several times.
"Oh, sorry" He smiled thinly. "I have nearly forgot that you were rotting in Azakaban last time his name was in the newspapers. Let me help you. Huckley Eldebert was considered to be the most ingenious thief of our century. Extraordinary brilliant one. But if it comes to the matter of why, I have no idea."
That wasn't the whole truth. Snape had a few theories. Every of them was as possible as the other and neither could be shared with Bella.
It won't harm the warrior to have some additional means of defense. And Snape planned to use them all.
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In the midsummer, the Loara delta was beautiful with this overwhelming, heady beauty of a land full with maturing grapes and promises of sweet wine and happiness. Minerva wanted to never leave this place, grow roots into the fresh, black soil and celebrate the never-ending festive of death and rebirth. Even the medieval castles scattered along the river looked strangely lively and habitable.
She wasn't sure how she got into this one. The last she remembered she was looking at a solid, iron gate leading to the castle which was labeled as a "Private property". The gate was adorned with little wolfs' heads and Minerva had an uncomfortable feeling of being observed. Next moment there was a blinding flash and she found herself standing at a sunlit terrace, a bit shaken and not sure of what to do. Luckily, her inner struggle ended as quickly as it began with the help of a voice coming from behind her.
"Professor McGonagall? The unexpected visitor, but it's my pleasure nonetheless. Bonjour, madam. Welcome to my heritage, the Wolvein's castle."
She spun around and faced her speaker. Sergius Wolvein in deep maroon robes and in his own territory was looking even more royal than previously. She have wondered many times if purebloods have sucked this kind of attitude with their mother's blood or were taught it, but she supposed it didn't matter. Despite his pleasant smile she felt like an intruder. Worse even, her instinct was begging her to drop the matter and escape as quickly as possible. Luckily, then she have heard a happy Phoenix' trill and she finally have found her voice. She firmly told her instinct to sod off.
"Really, monsieur Wolvein? I was sure I have send you a notice concerning my arrival. Good afternoon to you, too."
"Oh, Merlin! That's my fault, then. I'm deeply sorry. I'm rather difficult to find, maybe the poor owl wasn't able to reach her destination" He looked regretful all right. So why Minerva noticed something akin to gleam of triumph in his black eyes? "Do you want to come inside?"
"Thank you, I like the landscape. Besides, I couldn't stay long, I must return to the Hogwart's. The Board of Governors appointed me the new Headmistress…"
"Please, let me congratulate you!" Wolvein snapped his fingers and a little House Elf wearing maroon handkerchief appeared. "Kinky, champagne for two!"
"But, really…" Minerva didn't get to finish her sentence when she was presented with a delicately shaped glass resembling a lily. It was full to the brim with a sparkling beverage. She took a sip. "Gods in Heaven!"
He had a pleasant, deep laugh. "And the best for you, Headmistress." He raised his glass. "Surprised? I have always known that you, English, know nothing about the wine!"
"It's really nice of you, monsieur Wolvein. But I wish to go back to the matter that brought me here." No, she wouldn't be easily distracted.
"An that is?"
"You know quite well if you have read my letters."
He furrowed his brow. "And you, my dear headmistress should know my answer. I thought I couldn't be more straightforward. I'm a researcher, not a warrior, no matter what tales my godfather was presenting you with. I have fulfilled my duty. What makes you think that I'm inclined to die in the war that is not mine?"
"Maybe the esteem in which Albus held you?"
"And what do you know about this?" He inquired, smiling softly, dangerously. "I think that nothing. So please, drop it."
"Bloody Hell, Wolvein!" Minerva was becoming really angry. "I'm asking for you only to take this job, not to bloody kill everyone! You don't need to actually fight, if you want you don't need to stick your nose out of the Hogwart's castle! You only need to be there. Don't you understand the meaning of a symbol?"
"The people better start believe in themselves than in symbols if they wish to win this war" he retorted calmly. "And don't fool yourself, Headmistress. If I go there, I would fight. Anyway, I'm not the Dark Arts specialist so I really don't understand why do you want me to become the DADA teacher. Want me to lift this goddamned curse? Well, I suppose I could work on that." He gave Minerva a big, cheeky grin.
"Monsieur Wolvein." She sighed deeply. "I really don't know how to talk with you…"
"I admit I have this problem myself. Depressingly often so."
"You cannot be passive to the end of the world. There could be a time when Voldemort wouldn't be satisfied with only England. He will try to conquer other countries… France, for example."
"No. Not, as long as I'm here." He smiled with a smile Minerva started to recognize as a predatory one. She eyed him, dumbstruck. There really must be more to the man than he allowed to see her. She planned to confront him about that. But maybe Heavens wished to leave her only with this enigmatic sentence. Because then a familiar looking white owl landed on a railing, a scroll of parchment hold tightly in her claws. Hedwig looked very proud of herself. Sergius Wolvein gave out a noise of surprise and took the parchment from the owl.
Minerva was left watching as French unrolled the letter and began reading. "Right" he muttered halfway through the page, his brow furrowed. At last, he looked at her and sighed. There was an odd determination in his eyes.
"Bloody Gryffindors." He shook his head. "Your lot really is stubborn. All right, you have your teacher. Expect me in three days. See you, Headmistress."
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AN: Next chapter wholly in England and I promise you far more action. Reviews are appreciated!