Crimson Emeralds
by The Velvet Ghost

Chapter Three - A Downwards Spiral

"Harry... you really don't have to go, you know. We don't mind you being here. We love your company, Harry, and... oh, I don't want to feel like we're pushing you away."

Harry looked up from the last open suitcase, trying to cram a final pair of socks alongside his t-shirts. "It's alright, Mrs Weasley," he said with a smile. "I want to find my own place. I'll still come visit."

She sighed sadly. "I just hope you'll be alright... I mean, all out on your own in the middle of London? Grimmauld Place isn't exactly well protected..."

"Ron and Hermione will be with me," said Harry.

Ron's mother looked as if she didn't think this would help somehow. She twisted her hands around the wooden spoon in her hands, and sighed again. "Alright, Harry... I know you'll do what's best. I have full confidence in you."

She came over, and as Harry eased the lid of his suitcase into place, she hugged him gently around the neck. He hesitated for a moment, then leant into her and let her pet his hair.

"Stay safe," she begged him. "Promise me Harry, you won't do anything stupid... you won't make any silly mistakes... it only takes one silly mistake - "

"I'll be alright, Mrs Weasley," he said. As they drew apart, he smiled at her. "If it makes you feel better, I'll stay for breakfast."

She gave a tearful laugh, her eyes shining, and said, "Of course you can stay for breakfast... and I want you to check in at least once a day, so I know the three of you are alright. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you." She picked up her mixing bowl, and began to stir the batter inside, as she watched him with motherly pride. "You're so grown up, Harry... I remember the first time I saw you. You were so very short..."

Harry couldn't help but grin. He rolled his suitcase to the edge of the kitchen with Ron and Hermione's, waiting by the door to be taken to Grimmauld Place.

"With your spellotaped glasses," Mrs Weasley said, fondly and sadly. "And your hair all over the place, all lost and bewildered... poor lamb..." Tears welled in her eyes. "Just like Ron... where have the years gone, Harry?"

Harry chuckled. "It feels like a century ago, doesn't it?"

"It does," she sighed. Wiping away her tears, she said, "Could you possibly go and find Ron and Hermione for me, Harry? They've gone for another walk through the garden." She peered through the kitchen window, as she spooned the batter into a frying pan. "I do wonder what they're up to."

"I'll go and find them," said Harry, and he left the kitchen, heading out into the back yard. Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. Thinking they had possibly gone for a stroll through the fields, he broke his way gently through the clutch of the hedge, out into the ocean of green and gold that surrounded the Weasley's house. High above, the sky was bright blue and streaked with fluffy white clouds - you would never guess that at this moment in time, Voldemort was out in the world somewhere, planning death and destruction and pain.

Harry pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and set off along the country path, thinking, looking up only when a squirrel or a field mouse rustled in the hedgerow. He had a feeling he knew where Ron and Hermione would be. They had been slipping off there quite regularly, since the end of last year. Harry didn't blame them. He certainly wished he had somewhere to hide away, and somebody to be there with.

Dumbledore's death had brought dark times. Although nobody ever said it, as if speaking the words aloud would make it true, the Order was struggling, perhaps even dying. Dumbledore had been the heart of the Order of the Phoenix. Without him, they were collapsing. Harry had a feeling there was another reason, one he didn't like to think about but came to his mind as he climbed through another hedge.

Nobody had ever thought a Death Eater would infiltrate the Order of the Phoenix so easily, so effortlessly, and cause such horrific damage. Snape's betrayal had taken everybody by shock. Perhaps they were afraid to rejoin, just in case history repeated itself and they were eradicated one by one by the Death Eaters. Harry knew that Professor McGonagall was wasting away before the Order's eyes.

Nobody could relight the hope that Dumbledore had brought, because nobody thought he would ever be gone. Harry had been prepared to see the people in his life picked off, person by person - he'd forced himself to accept that Hagrid, Professor Lupin, Ron, Hermione, even Ginny, they could all be snatched away from him like Sirius was.

But Dumbledore had been the pillar of the wizarding world.

As Harry scrambled through a third and final hedge, he found himself feeling guilty, as every member of the Order did, that he hadn't expected Voldemort to go after Dumbledore. The headmaster was the only person Voldemort was ever afraid of, so why hadn't they expected something like that? Everybody had been too busy protecting Harry to realise Dumbledore was in danger.

Too busy trusting Snape, he thought viciously. As he came to the crest of a hill, he stopped and looked down into the clearing below. The lake glittered in the morning sunlight, shimmering shades of olive and emerald and turquoise and bottle-green, and nestled in an old wooden swing by the willow tree were Ron and Hermione. He had his head tucked under her chin, watching the lake with an empty expression. Hermione was trying not to cry.

Harry suddenly felt awkward. Was it right to interrupt this moment?

Luckily, he was spotted before he had to make the decision. Hermione glanced up, and smiled quietly. "Harry..."

Ron looked up. Colour touched his cheeks, and he moved to pull away from Hermione, as if they'd been caught doing something forbidden, but Harry shook his head.

"Don't," he said to Ron. "I don't mind. You know I don't." Grinning, he said, "Did you think I hadn't noticed something before now? I'm not blind, guys. I'm not stupid either."

Hermione chuckled. "See," she said reassuringly to Ron. "He's not mad. I told you he wouldn't be."

"Mrs Weasley's making pancakes, I think," said Harry, sitting himself at the top of the hill and looking down at them. "She wants you both to come for breakfast, then we'll head off to Grimmauld Place."

Ron nodded quietly. "Alright..." Something in his voice told Harry that it was not alright at all.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Ron sadly. He gave Harry a weak smile. "It's just... over, you know?"

"What's over?" said Harry, confused.

"Hogwarts," said Ron. He waved a hand aimlessly in the air. "All the... the school, and the houses, and the Great Hall and classes... I just didn't think we'd ever have to leave." He sighed and looked down into his lap. "It just feels like recently, everything that makes sense and is reliable has... well, gone..."

Harry fell quiet. He knew what that felt like. Once upon a time, he'd thought that Dumbledore would always be here, and there would always be a Hogwarts to return to. Before that, he'd been comforted by the fact that Sirius would always have time to answer his letters. That was when Snape had just been a bit twisted and grouchy, and Draco Malfoy was just a prat.

"I really miss it," said Ron, and his voice broke. Hermione ran a hand through his hair. He turned his face away from Harry, into her neck, and struggled to speak. "I'm just... afraid. You can understand that right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, drawing his knees to his chest. "Yeah... yeah, I can..."

"And it feels like... even if everything turns out okay," said Ron, and his voice was somehow strong and weak at once. "Even if You Know Who gets what's coming to him, and Snape gets boiled alive in the grease from his own hair, and Malfoy... I don't know, explodes or something, then... well, it's not going to be okay, is it? There's not going to be a Hogwarts again, or a Dumbledore."

"Or a Sirius," said Harry quietly.

"Exactly," said Ron. He looked miserably into the lake, as a kingfisher skimmed low across the surface and fluttered away into the trees. "I hate Snape. I hate him so much. This is all his fault... I bet Voldemort has been planning this for years. His first major act when he's back from the dead."

"Probably," said Harry. He rested his chin on one knee, quietly, and a moment of silence passed. "I wonder where Snape is now."

"In hiding," said Hermione. "Most likely, at least... he'll have returned to the Death Eaters for his reward. I wouldn't be surprised if he's Voldemort's new favourite."

At last, something snapped in Ron and he exploded, "That stupid greasy hook-nosed... there's not a word! There's not a word, to describe how... how greasy, and horrible, and back-stabbing and stupid... he's just a... a..."

Hermione found the word.

Ron gave her a shocked look. "You're not supposed to know words like that, you're the good one!"

And in spite of everything that was going wrong, Harry found himself laughing. Dumbledore was gone, and so was Hogwarts, but at least he had Ron and Hermione. "Come on," he said. "Let's go have pancakes, then we can get off to Grimmauld Place and start cursing Mrs Black off the wall."

Ron and Hermione jumped down from the swing, hurried up the hill and together as a three, they walked back along the narrow countryside paths towards The Burrow. As they stepped through the hedge into the yard, the irresistable scent of fresh pancakes filled Harry's nostrils and his stomach growled longingly.

"What time is it?" asked Ron, as they approached the house.

Harry checked his watch. "Nearly ten o' clock. You two were gone for ages."

Hermione pushed open the kitchen door, and they stepped into the warm aroma of pancake batter and treacle. Mrs Weasley was carefully serving pancakes onto each plate, although one place at the table was already taken up. Remus Lupin smiled up at the three of them as they entered, and Harry grinned.

"Hi," he said.

Lupin pulled out the chair next to him. "Hello, Harry. How are you? Good summer?"

"Could be worse," said Harry.

"That's the spirit," said Lupin. Ron was already spooning a generous amount of honey onto his pancakes, as Hermione tried her best not to disapprove, biting her lower lip. Harry reached for the chocolate spread.

"How are you?" he asked Lupin, who nodded.

"Quite fine," he said. "I came for a word with you, Harry. There's somewhere in London I need to take you today. Molly tells me you're moving to Grimmauld Place, so I can help the three of you with your suitcases. My car's outside, and muggle transport seems a lot safer than the floo network these days."

"Thanks, Professor," said Ron through a mouthful of pancake, and Hermione's lips thinned.

"What is it you need a word about?" asked Harry curiously.

Lupin smiled. "Nothing bad, Harry, don't worry. There's just something we need to sort out together. It shan't take more than an hour or two at most."

"Are we coming?" asked Ron, eagerly.

"I'm afraid not," chuckled Lupin. "I'll take the three of you and your suitcases to Grimmauld Place, drop you all off with the luggage and then take Harry into London."

"Alright," said Harry. "Where exactly is it we're going? Diagon Alley?"

"Near to there," said Remus with a reassuring smile.

"Knockturn Alley?" Ron blurted out, halfway through his third pancake.

"No no, nothing bad," said Remus. "It's just something for Dumbledore. All will be explained soon enough."

As they all ate, and Mrs Weasley refilled the plate of pancakes over and over again, Harry found himself sinking into his thoughts. What would they need to do for Dumbledore? To be fair, he didn't... well, he wouldn't need much, anymore, unless he had left something on for after his death, something Harry had to do.

Oh.

Harry realised as he spread chocolate sauce on his fifth pancake, and his hand jittered - Dumbledore must have passed Lupin the job of assisting Harry with the remaining Horcruxes. Were they going on a mission? Harry felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. He didn't want to spoil what had been a good day with memories of Dumbledore, and the mission he still had to complete.

He was silent as he ate the last of his pancakes. Ron and Hermione were oblivious to his discomfort, as was Mrs Weasley, but Lupin seemed to notice. As he pushed his plate away, no longer able to eat, Lupin gave him a reassuring look.

"You'll be back in two hours maximum, Harry," he promised. "There'll be no danger involved - I promise. All you really need to do is listen and think."

Harry looked up, surprised. "What?" he said, but Lupin hadn't heard. He was standing up, taking his travelling cloak from the back of his chair.

"Shall we get going? The sooner we get there, the sooner you can all settle into your new home."

There was a murmur of agreement. Hermione got up from the table and went to check her suitcase one last time, as Harry put on his jacket, and Ron shuffled across the kitchen to his mother.

"Um... bye then, Mum," he said shyly, casting a nervous look at Harry. He shifted his foot on the floor. "I'll miss you. And I'll call, and all that. You can come for Christmas."

As Mrs Weasley pulled him into her arms for a hug, he looked both embarrassed and pleased. He dithered for a moment, his ears turning pink, before he reached around to pat her on the back.

"Be safe," she urged him. "And be careful. Charlie nearly amputated his own arm on the first day in his new flat."

"I know," mumbled Ron. "I'll be safe. And I'll be careful. Honest, Mum. I'm not stupid."

She released him, and held him by the shoulders, staring into his face with fierce love and pride. "My little Ronny... all grown-up..."

Ron turned a delightful shade of magenta. "Geroff, Mum... I'm only moving to London, it's not like I'm going to Mars..."

"Remember to send me an owl when you get there," Mrs Weasley said, finally letting him go. "Goodbye, Harry dear... Hermione, you're always welcome. The three of you look after each other."

With a last look back at the Weasley's kitchen, Harry left after Lupin, his suitcase held under his arm and that worried knot still lodged in his stomach. He didn't know why, but he had the feeling Lupin would have explained what this mission for Dumbledore was, if it was a harmless mission - or he wouldn't have been reluctant to explain it in front of Ron and Hermione. Outside in the drive was a rather old, battered little car painted in beige, and as Lupin approached, its headlights flashed happily.

"It might be a bit of a squeeze in the back," said Lupin apologetically, as he opened the trunk for their suitcases. "That's it, just pile them in. Hermione, how many of these bags contain books?"

"Five," said Hermione, with a blush, and Lupin gave her a fond smile.

"I only wish you could have stayed on to finish your NEWTs," he said, lifting the last bag into the trunk. "You would have obliterated all previous records, I think."

Hermione smiled, trying not to look too happy, and slid carefully into the back seat as Lupin opened the door for her. Just as Ron made to get in, Harry heard Hermione let out a squeal. "Professor, what's this?" she said, holding out a mauled stuffed toy. It looked as if it had been a penguin at one time.

Lupin smiled quietly and took it. "Sirius," he said. "I did tell him not to leave his toys in my car... I suppose this is yours now, Harry."

He offered it. Harry shook his head, "You keep it. As much as I'd love a half-chewed penguin."

"I think it was a panda," said Lupin. He smiled, opening the passenger door for Harry to get in. "I'm sure there's a nice place on my mantelpiece for this."

"That's the last bag then," said Lupin, rubbing his lower back as Ron staggered up to the front door of Grimmauld Place, his arms around another bulging bag of books. "Will you be alright with that Ron?"

Ron gave a groan, and managed, "Yeah, I'll try... don't be too long, Harry. The bookshelf will probably give way under all these. I'll end buried under Book Mountain."

Harry gave a small smile. "Good luck."

"Thanks," said Ron, and stumbled into the dark hallway of the house. Lupin turned to Harry. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"You're not still worried, are you?"

"A little," admitted Harry. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Professor?"

"Remus," the older wizard said with a smile. "You're not a child anymore, Harry."

"Remus," said Harry. "Is this all about... the Horcruxes?"

A look of genuine confusion touched Lupin's face. "Horcruxes? What does Professor Dumbledore have to do with Horcruxes?"

"Nothing," said Harry quickly. So it wasn't about the Horcruxes then - so what was it? Not knowing was infuriating. "Remus, can't you just... give me a clue or something? I'm sort of... worried. You can understand, right?"

"I can," said Remus reassuringly. He opened the car door for Harry to get in. "We're going there now, Harry." He paused for a moment, his gentle hazel eyes resting on Harry's face, a hand still on the younger wizard's shoulder. "It's frustrating for me, not being able to explain it all to you here... I just know, from personal experience, that you won't believe if I told you now. It's only natural. If it had been explained to me without seeing the proof, I wouldn't have believed. But I do now, Harry, and I want you to remember that. I am not leading you into a trap."

"I trust you," said Harry. "It's just that... what do I have to believe? What am I going to be shown?"

"Good things," promised Remus. "Explanations. Closure."

"Are you sure?" said Harry awkwardly. "I mean... I'm not going to just end up with more to think about, am I? I've already got enough to be going on with, really..."

Remus shook his head soothingly. "No, Harry. In fact, the opposite - I promise that today will take a huge weight off your shoulders. It's nothing bad, nothing negative, nothing scary. Personally, I see it as thoroughly positive, for both you and the wizarding world."

Harry felt his stomach tighten slightly. "Oh... for the wizarding world. So it's something about me being a hero and how I've got to defeat Voldemort single-handedly... great, just what I need."

And to his surprise, Remus smiled. Something danced in his eyes. "Actually, it's not that at all. If anything, it's about help from unlikely places. Today is the day you'll learn that you're not as alone as you might think."

"Really?" said Harry, his eyes a little wide. "So... oh please, Remus, just tell me what it is!"

"You'll know soon enough," said Remus. He closed the car door, and moved around the bonnet, sliding into his own seat and starting the engine. "If it helps, you weren't the only one kept in the dark. I had no idea about this, nor does... well, nor does somebody else. He's due to find out when you do."

Harry looked up from the tin of travel sweets he had just taken from the glove compartment. "Who?"

"Draco," said Snape, and rapped the bathroom door with the back of his knuckles. "We need to leave."

There was a scuffle from inside, and the bathroom door creaked open a fraction. Draco peered out. "Why? I thought I was to stay in here all morning."

"No," said Snape. "Your part in the proceedings has come. Quickly, out."

Looking confused but saying nothing, Draco picked up his book from the side of the sink and left the bathroom. He watched Severus with a frown, as the older man crouched and gathered a large bundle of towels into his arms. Something solid was hidden inside. After several weeks of asking questions and being told to shut up, Draco had learnt that it got him nowhere, so he didn't ask. To his surprise though, Severus answered the unasked question.

"A pensieve."

Draco's eyebrows lifted. "A pensieve? What for?"

"All will be revealed soon," said Snape. He looked around agitatedly. "Damn it all, where is it? Ah, Draco, that silver bottle there. Give me it."

Draco glanced around. A small phial, just like the ones they'd used in Potions, was waited on the dresser and shimmering slightly, the contents both water and cloud at the same time. He picked it up, intrigued, and gave it a shake.

"These are memories," he said. He'd seen his father extract enough of them from his head to recognise a memory when he saw it.

"Well done," snapped Snape, more stressed than angry. "Ten points to Slytherin. Make it a thousand. Give me the bottle."

Draco handed it over. He followed Snape, the bottle and the bundle to the door, then out into the corridor, knowing that asking questions would get him nowhere far. He dug his hands into his pockets. When they got to the elevator, Snape ushered him inside and shifted whatever it was in his arms, resting it on his hip, so he could press the button for the basement.

"The basement?" said Draco. "Why are we going to the basement with a pensieve? Can't you show me whatever it is in our room?"

"The guest list encompasses slightly more people than you," said Snape, distracted.

"Oh? Who?"

"Potter."

"Potter? Harry Potter?" Draco let out a cold, humourless laugh, the sort that usually brought Crabbe and Goyle out in a strong case of snickering. "As if Harry Potter will turn up to a muggle hotel, to meet you and me, of all people. He saw you murder - "

"No," snapped Snape, and his face contorted for a moment. "Stop it. What have I told you?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "Why is it so hushed up? I saw it. You saw it. We both saw it."

Snape did not answer.

"Anyway," said Draco vaguely. "Potter isn't that stupid, as much as I hate to say it. He won't come."

"He has no idea that you and I will be there," said Snape. "I had Lupin come earlier... he was the person most likely to succeed. Closest to Potter, without wanting to snap my neck. I considered Rubeus Hagrid, but he was too close to Dumbledore."

"So it was Lupin," said Draco frowning. "When I was locked in the bathroom. Why wasn't I allowed out then?"

"Lupin and I decided that Potter and yourself need to learn at the same time."

"Potter won't stay in the same room as me for long," said Draco darkly, folding his arms and glaring across the elevator at the flashing lights, watching them plummet slowly down through the building. "If I end up jinxed... you saw what he did to me last year. In the bathroom."

Once more, Snape said nothing. Draco didn't notice and carried on, now lost in his complaints and not bothered if anybody was actually listening.

"I had no idea Potter knew curses like that," he said. He looked interested for a moment, poking his tongue into his cheek as he thought. "I do wonder where he learnt it. It doesn't seem like something any of his goody-goody friends would know..."

"Mm."

"Granger, perhaps? No, she'd never look in that kind of book... it's a rare curse. I've certainly never heard it. Sectumsomething. It sounds like one that somebody created themselves, for personal use... why would Potter be inventing his own hexes?"

"Potter did not invent Sectumsempra," bristled Snape, and his voice was so vicious that Draco went quiet, forgetting his miseries. "I have no wish to hear anymore of your rambling. This is a very delicate stage. The most delicate."

With a gentle jolt, the lift reached the basement and the doors slid open, revealing depressing grey concrete walls, pressing darkness and no hint of a window. A single flickering electric light illuminated a dripping puddle. Draco shuddered.

"Severus, are you sure that this is for the best?"

"Certain," said Snape quietly. As the lift doors slid shut and the older wizard knelt, unwrapping the pensieve, he said, "As was Albus Dumbledore. I doubt I have the right to argue with his judgement any longer."

Draco didn't speak. He settled himself on the floor next to Severus, held his knees to his chest, and decided that he quite wanted to go home.

"There are two separate versions," Severus explained, as he unfolded the last towel from the pensieve and unscrewed the lid of the bottle of memories. "One for Potter. One for you. Lupin should arrive with Potter shortly, and they have a separate pensieve set up across the basement. We shall stay here."

"I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with this," said Draco, edgily. "What exactly is going on?"

"You're going to be shown a series of memories," said Snape. "A message at the start explains everything." He emptied the contents of the bottle into the pensieve, drew his wand and stirred quietly. "I will be with you throughout."

"Oh," said Draco quietly. "Great."

Severus gave him a frown that was remarkably fond, grasped him by the back of the neck and pushed his face forwards, down into the mist of the pensieve, as across the basement a second lift opened.