Chapter Nine: Prices
A/N: Thank you to bigkihap, foci, XO Moonsong, am4ever, Batou, ellenhunter, bogus7 (cheating's ok :-P), and Quill of Minerva for their reviews. Really, guys. I appreciate it.
And, as always, thank you to my beta Flying Auk, who forgave me for confusing her.
"So we come to the end, Dumbledore. What is your—what?" Voldemort exclaimed rising up from his seat, unconsciously releasing Minerva who slumped to the ground.
A loud moan had arisen from the Death Eater on his left, and the man crumpled over in sudden pain. The Dark Lord himself felt an unpleasant tingling in his stomach and coughed sharply, thereby missing the slight, knowing smile on Potter's face as all around the circle, his men were suddenly and violently ill.
He also missed the startled widening of Potter's eyes as the boy whirled around to face Dumbledore. The sound of a different voice in his head had instantly incited a dozen different emotions in him, none of them pleasant. The boy's green eyes were narrowed, his body tense and angry as he faced down his mentor. They glared at each other for only a moment before Potter shook his head and regained his determined edge. They raised their arms in unison, performing a simple spell with complex wandless magic. "Accio Minerva!"
Brilliant violet and emerald fire arched towards Minerva, gathering her up and sending her sailing through the air at incredible speed. Voldemort's shout of rage was echoed by his followers' exclamations of surprise, and half a dozen curses were shot at Minerva.
"Protego maximus!" Potter shouted, and emerald green fire shot up around Minerva in a dazzling sphere of light. Angry red jets and sickly green ones dissipated as they hit the shield; Potter shook slightly with every impact but never faltered, eyes blazing.
From the back of the circle, however, came a single curse aimed directly at Potter's back. Neither Potter nor Dumbledore noticed, so intent on rescuing and protecting Minerva that they were oblivious to all else, including their own safety. The woman in question, however, had always been preternaturally aware of and preoccupied by the latter issue and took action, weak as she was. Her whispered, wishful "Protego" seemed misplaced amongst the loud, angry shouts of the men in the room, and it was that doubtful anything but her magic heard her. The faint shimmer of violet that arose behind Potter was like a thin gauze screen to his heavy canvas, but it was enough. Both the curse and the shield disappeared simultaneously.
Then, finally, after what could have been only a few seconds but felt like hours, Minerva landed safely in Dumbledore's arms. She was barely conscious.
"Fawkes!" the old wizard roared.
A bright note rang out as a small fireball exploded in the center of the room, and the Death Eaters trembled. The note turned into a startled squawk, however, as the phoenix tried to materialize. A ghastly green net of magic had somehow appeared around the bird and began to tighten. Fawkes flapped his wings desperately, trying to cut his way out of the net with his claws, but to no avail. The net was bringing the mighty bird down to earth, and there was no doubt in anyone's mind what the outcome would be.
"Go!" Dumbledore shouted urgently. Fawkes' head jerked up to stare at his wizard. "GO!" With a mournful note of apology and sorrow, Fawkes vanished in a ball of fire. Moments later the net hit the ground empty, burning into the floor with an angry hiss.
"Here," Potter said sharply, holding out a half dozen wands. The old man held his right hand above them for a moment, then snatched the one on the far left. Potter broke the others spitefully, throwing the shards to the floor.
"I'll try," he said shortly. Dumbledore nodded, scanning the Death Eaters for danger and easily deflecting the few spells sent their way. Potter raised his wand and snapped it down in a practiced motion. For a moment he flickered, and Dumbledore's breath caught hopefully. The next second, however, he was hurled painfully downward, hitting the ground with an audible thud
The boy grimaced and rose, not bothering to brush himself off. "This way," Potter ordered under his breath, raising his wand and firing off a vicious curse at the Death Eater to his left. "Hurry." Dumbledore's arms tightened around his precious burden as he followed, helping Potter deflect the myriad of curses sent at them, most poorly aimed due to the wretched retching of most of Voldemort's circle.
They did not concern themselves with the Dark Lord himself. Twelve of the world's most dangerous poisons were currently working their way through Voldemort's system, and although they knew that he would quickly recover, for the moment he was out of their way.
Potter barely paused to open doors. If the door was locked, he blasted through it. If there was no door in the wall, he made one. The few Death Eaters that they crossed in the halls were quickly disposed of by some nasty curses from Potter and a few truly malicious ones from Dumbledore. Unlike the Death Eaters they fought, the two rescuers did not feel their injuries, major or minor. They would not pause, they would not stop, they knew no mercy. Potter in particular fought with a recklessness that surpassed even Gryffindor standards.
All in all, it probably took them only a few minutes to reach the small garden just outside the mansion, but even that was far too long for Dumbledore.
He could feel Minerva's blood seeping through her robes and into his as they ran, the presence of that warm, sticky substance signaling the loss of their lifeblood. He could feel how cold her body was, weak from hunger, thirst, and blood loss. Worst of all, he could feel it as her breaths grew shallower and shallower against his chest until her body fell completely limp in his arms and his heart stopped. For a brief moment he felt a wrenching pain in his chest as if his beating heart had just been ripped from his body and set aflame, leaving him breathless.
"MINERVA!" Dumbledore screamed. He dropped slowly to the ground, cradling her body carefully, dead and dying vegetation all around them.
Ahead of him, Potter froze and whirled around, face stricken, eyes wide. "No," the boy whispered, his mouth forming the word though little sound came out.
Dumbledore raised her head gently, stroking the bruised, dirt-streaked cheek with callused, trembling fingers as Potter stared at them in horror. "Wake up!" Dumbledore continued caressing her cheek softly, unaware that his tears were now falling freely, washing the dirt from her face. "Don't do this to me, Minerva!"
In desperation, Dumbledore placed his left hand over her heart and took a deep breath. A brilliant violet light flared between them, and Potter watched in amazement as Albus's magic flowed into Minerva. Agonized moments later, Minerva drew in a short, rasping breath, and Potter nearly cheered. Dumbledore, however, seemed unaware of this miraculous event and continued pouring his life-magic into her—face graying by the second as he slowly killed himself in his frenzied attempt to save her.
"Albus!" Potter cried sharply. "Stop it! She's all right." Seeing no visible reaction, the boy knelt down and slapped him hard across the face. "Dammit, we have to get out of here or we'll all die! Now get up!"
Dumbledore blinked and looked up at him, blue eyes dazed. "Get up!" Potter roared. Fumbling, the old man attempted to obey but fell down hard, barely managing to break Minerva's fall with his body.
Potter swore, loudly and creatively. "Here, give her to me," he demanded. At the belligerent look in Dumbledore's eyes, Potter's expression hardened. "You can barely walk, and if we're not gone in the next five minutes, none of us are ever going to leave. Now give her to me, for Merlin's sake!"
Silently acknowledging Dumbledore's threat of great harm, Potter carefully gathered up Minerva but did not rise from the ground. "Grab onto my arm," he said. Dumbledore did so, and Potter rose slowly, adjusting to the double weight.
Gritting his teeth, the boy slowly guided the couple out through the little gate and beyond the inner wall. "Here," he said shortly. Dumbledore nearly collapsed. Potter paused for a moment and then gently lowered Minerva into the old man's arms. Satisfied that he held her with far more strength than Dumbledore had shown while walking, Potter rose. "Call Fawk—" Potter broke off with a gasp.
"What is it?"
"We've been here too long. The potion—it's wearing off." By the end of the statement, the boy's voice had deepened, turning into the smooth, familiar tones of Hogwarts' Potions Master. Severus Snape looked flatly ridiculous in school robes at least two sizes too small for him. "Bloody hell," he cursed softly, looking down at himself in disgust. "Hurry up and call Fawkes; we can't stay here."
When asked, he would say that he acted purely on instinct.
Later, he would recall with satisfaction that the killing curse required pure, unadulterated hatred.
Finally, in the privacy of his own quarters, deep in the heart of the dungeons and surrounded by Slytherin green, he would wonder why he mourned the death of Lucius Malfoy.
Severus's sharp ears caught rasping of the garden door just before it burst open. Someone had caught up with them. His borrowed wand was up in a flash, and the Dark Magic flowed freely through the fouled contraption. He could not be seen; they could not be taken. Expediency was the way of war.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The Death Eater fell without a sound as the bright green light struck him square in the chest, his wand falling from lifeless fingers. Severus could not say what possessed him to pull back the mask and see which of the men with whom he had gone out for drinks he had just killed. As soon as he touched the material he knew. Only Lucius Malfoy would own Death Eater robes of silk. Stumbling backwards as if burned, Severus stared down at the corpse of the man who had once been his best friend.
Behind him, Albus demanded his attention. "It's time to go." The younger man turned to find Fawkes on the shoulder of his mentor. He had somehow missed the bird's arrival. Silently, Severus picked up the fallen wand, pocketed it, and grasped Fawkes' bright tail. Then, in a flash, they were gone.
A/N: Needing dramatic music...
So, there's that. Props to anyone who figured it out, and apologies to those of you who are still confused.
I feel the need to clarify one point. Yes, Severus is Harry. Yes, Aberforth was supposed to be Dumbledore (hence Severus-Harry's surprise), but did you really think that Albus would just stand back and watch his brother rescue his wife? Points to foci for figuring that one out, and to ellenhunter and DumbledoresKitten for getting the first one.
Please do review!