Paradise Found
Chapter Six
This Devil's Game
In London there is a street that seldom people will look at twice and say, "My, that's a shady sort of area, best not go there after dark!" Like Privet Drive and Wisteria Walk the streets are clean and many of the women like to get together at different times of the day to discuss the latest developments in each others' lives. Unlike Privet Drive, however, the houses are of various colours and sizes, almost no two are the same. Some are two stories while others are not, and all have a patch of grass and stretch of driveway in various conditions. There is, however, one curious thing about this road; a large plot of ground between two houses remains desolate and empty. For how long the plot of land has remained empty, no one can seem to remember, nor can anyone remember at any one time someone wanting to buy the plot, or even if a house had been demolished upon it. No one knew if the plot was purchased and those few who came by the neighbourhood to look at the plot found themselves violently opposed to the idea or curiously uninterested, several often found themselves remembering previous engagements and never seen again.
However, there were those who knew that the conspicuous, sometimes inconspicuous, plot of land was more than it seemed. At precisely forty seven minutes after three o'clock in the morning, everything went dark for a moment and when the street lamps re-ignited there stood a man, very old in appearance, and wearing a long black travelling cloak. Nothing around him was disturbed and looking about for a moment, satisfied, he continued up the walk, through the undetectable wards and a door beyond that. The street behind him and all its sleeping occupants were left blissfully unaware.
And yet as he shut the door behind him, thunder growled ominously.
"Albus, we weren't expecting you. Come in," Remus Lupin's initial surprise was easily covered and he retreated back into the kitchen. "Tea?"
"No, thank you, is Severus in?"
Remus nodded. "In his room last I checked, would you like me to fetch him?"
Albus shook his head, his silver beard swaying. "I think not, thank you, Remus."
It took him a few minutes to find the right room on the third floor but finding it all the same, Albus paused for a few minutes before knocking. "Enter," snapped a voice within, a loose floorboard creaking as someone crossed the room.
Opening the door and closing it behind him, Albus watched as Severus turned to acknowledge whoever had come in and nodded his head once before sitting in one of two chairs by the empty fire grate. The room was sparse, only a few staples such as the two chairs, singular bed shoved against the far wall, and dusty armoire. "Good evening, Severus." Taking the unoccupied seat, the silver haired Headmaster studied the dark young man before him. Severus Snape had served him well for several years. He had proven himself loyal on several occasions and had sworn himself to Light for years. Now, only to waste away within Headquarters and Hogwarts. Belatedly, Albus wondered if his regret had more to do with his lost spy than Severus' life.
"Was there a reason for your presence, Headmaster?" Snape asked coldly, unseeing black eyes boring into the bare hearth.
Headmaster. That hurt. Deciding it would probably go best if he retained the professional mantel, Albus didn't answer but instead rifled through his pockets absentmindedly. "Lemon drop?"
Snape snarled, his fists clenched white and his jaw twitching.
"Do you have your report prepared?" he hedged, but the man just snorted and gave a noise of confirmation.
Severus stood and withdrew a large stone basin from a cabinet he hadn't noticed before by the bed. The tall man set it on the small table between them and leaned back in his chair again. Taking hold of the Pensieve he brought it closer to his long, crooked nose and dipped his face in. The memories swirled around him in a fine mist, changing and altering. When he was finished reviewing the events of Mr. Potter's capture, the Headmaster leaned back thoughtfully.
"I trust you took him to the safe house we had agreed upon?" he asked, to which Severus nodded curtly, a glass of wine in his hand now. The bottle was next to the Pensieve with another glass but the Headmaster didn't take it. Before he could say anything Severus began talking.
"There is a way to rectify the damage done by the…recovery of your 'chosen one'. If we can persuade the Dark Lord to believe you tricked me into taking a Portkeyed vial, to ensure that if I ever tried to give anything less than savoury to the brat, you would then catch me red handed in the act. Of course, then we would have to have another tale of how I kept a small amount of your trust though not enough to garner much more valuable information for a while. It would keep me in the Dark Lord's good graces a little longer and give us an excuse not to come up with something for a few months."
"The risk?" Albus ran his gnarled fingers through his beard and looked out the window over his colleague's oily head. Severus made a noise in the back of his throat and when Albus turned to look at him, his pallid face had lost even more colour. "Severus?"
"It would be considerable." A miniscule pause. "But worth it." Severus' eyes glinted as he said it, his curtain of hair framing his face in the dim candle light.
"Worth what?" asked Albus calmly, watching from behind his half-moon spectacles.
Severus' face morphed and grew colder. "You know what." Albus sighed and rooted around in his robes for a sweet. Popping a sherbet lemon in his mouth he sighed again, hoping it might somehow change the entire situation.
"Yes, Severus, I know what. But do you? You are so hell bent to prove yourself, to gain your redemption, to do Merlin knows what for…who, for what? Why, Severus? Why risk your life, your very soul in this Devil's Game if what you seek has already been given to you? You have proven yourself." Severus opened his mouth to protest but Albus rushed on. "Beyond whatever call I have held you to. You've gained your redemption; you've saved lives and sacrificed everything. Why continue to torture yourself?" Severus took a long sip from his glass; he had no answer. "I will not allow you to continue this foolish quest to bring yourself to ruin. Suicide missions will not bring you what you're looking for."
"Then what will?" Severus asked with something like despair in his quiet voice. "What, old man?"
"Love." Severus made a noise halfway between a choke and a snort. His face changed again to mirror disgust.
"Love," he mocked quietly. "What a pretty little lie. No doubt it works to tuck in foolish young Gryffindors but I'm hardly one of your precious little lions now, am I?" Severus' dark eyes were rich with some ugly dark humour.
"You sound as if you consider yourself a plague to me." Severus didn't say anything except to swirl the dark red liquid in his glass for a moment and glare at the hearth. "I can assure you, you are most certainly not."
"How kind of you to say so." Dark eyes glittered in the candle lit room.
Albus capitulated, there was no speaking with the Potions master when he had himself worked into one of his moods.
"And how is Mr. Potter?"
Severus swung his face toward the Headmaster with a dangerous look. "And just how am I supposed to know?"
Albus gave a shrug. "With only four people in the house I'd suspect you might've heard something."
"Ah, but you forget, Albus, unlike Harper and Lupin, I do not spend my time troubling myself over the welfare of the world's littlest saviour." Severus' voice continued in a low hiss. "Find yourself a Mediwitch or wizard if you'd really like to know, send him off to St. Mungo's for all I care. But don't ever presume to think I'd care one whit for that thoughtless, tactless, inconsiderate twit!" Albus wondered idly if the glass would shatter in Severus' grip but it didn't and in one long swig the rest of the liquid within it was gone.
"Well, I can see talking to you in this state is hardly going to prove fruitful or constructive, though it may improve my vocabulary a great deal. Good night, Severus. I strongly suggest you resist his summons tonight. I'll see you again tomorrow; when you are a little more suitable for civilized conversation."
Working his way down the stairs Albus heard the knocker at the front door and opened it to a very irritable Poppy Pomfrey. "Well, where is he?" the small woman demanded, pushing her way in, a Mediwitch bag in her hand.
Remus had come out of a room farther down the hall at the noise of Mrs. Black's muffled screeching. "He's in here, Poppy."
Both wizard and witch followed Remus to a dusty, ugly coloured couch where Harry's nest of black hair poked defiantly from under a blanket. Setting her bag down and retrieving a dictation quill and piece of parchment Poppy immediately began casting various spells over his still form and muttering things under her breath. The quill dutifully kept pace with each diagnosis, explanation, recommendation, and other nonsense that Albus and Remus knew absolutely nothing about. Every once in a while she would pause to dig in her bag for a potion or some other instrument that she would administer or set up next to the couch. Other times she would stop and shake her head, frowning deeply at something before making a personal note of it on her paper which seemed to lengthen as she needed it to.
To the werewolf it seemed to never end; for hours they stood and watched her, a veritable flurry of activity. Eventually though, it did stop and she began packing things away and looking over her notes on the parchment carefully. "How is he, Poppy?"
The Mediwitch glanced up from her notes to answer Remus directly. "Mr. Potter is suffering mild nerve strain caused by the two Apparitions, after affects of three different dark curses, malnutrition, dehydration, and magical exhaustion brought on by that burst of untamed magic." She scanned the parchment again, tapping the feather quill against her chin. "Someone appears to have tried the Permanent Sight Stealing curse but something went wrong so his vision may have to be checked more extensively when he wakes up."
"And when will that be, Poppy?" asked Albus in a concerned tone, he was still standing by the doorway and was giving the unconscious teen a deep look.
"In a few hours; I take it Zacharias gave him the Draught of Peace?" Remus couldn't answer though and the Mediwitch frowned. "Well, there are still traces of the potion in his system along with an extra dose of fluxweed and ginger." Madame Pomfrey gave the parchment a considering glance." I'm just glad someone was quick enough to realise with the combination of spells in his system already, any other calming draught would have done more damage than good. Mr. Potter is a very lucky young man. Now, for a few days he'll be in a very delicate state, and I would suggest-"
"'M nah d'licate," slurred a voice from the couch, causing the three adults to look down at him in surprise.
"Mr. Potter!" exclaimed Madame Pomfrey. "You shouldn't be waking for several hours at least! You need your rest, your body is very frail at this time and-"
"I'm not delicate, and I'm not frail!" insisted Harry, pushing himself upright. Madam Pomfrey huffed and came forward to apply various comfort charms, conjure a blanket and pillows, and spell him to the couch so he couldn't fall off. With a full, gusty sigh Harry gave the Mediwitch a glare though narrowed eyes. Looking around the room he squinted his eyes at Remus and otherwise swept his gaze blankly over Albus without stopping.
Remus stepped closer in concern, "Harry, can you see me?"
"Remus? You're really fuzzy," he squinted around the room. "Where are my glasses?" A moment later it came to him. "Oh, yeah. Damned bleeding Avery."
"Language, Harry," chastised Remus from his position at the end of the couch. Harry gave him an annoyed look but didn't argue.
Madame Pomfrey was watching as the quill scratched out several things on the lengthening parchment again. She came forward, though, as Harry asked who else was in the room and waved her wand before his eyes a few times. She tried various spells and charms, the quill writing furiously as she muttered an on going monologue under her breath.
"His vision appears to have degenerated as a result of the magical backlash fighting the botched curse…How does the light appear, Mr. Potter?"
Harry's eyes focused on the light emanating from her wand and described it as yellow, large, and…flashy. Albus saw a white, small, steady beam and frowned as Madame Pomfrey gnawed at her bottom lip, something she rarely did, before consulting her parchment once again. "Well," she sighed. "I'd give it a few days, allow his ribs and collarbone to mend. Then we'll test him again and see if his vision worsens, he may just need new glasses." She pulled out an unfamiliar bottle from her medic bag and carefully measured out the amount into a small jar. Instead of giving it to him, though, she rummaged threw her bag until she withdrew a leather pouch that smelled strongly of peppermint and coffee. Pulling out three dark leaves she pursued a mortar and pestle to grind them into a fine powder. Mixing in a healthy amount of potion she wrapped it in some gauze before tying it off with a muttered spell. Placing it on Harry's left eye she stepped back to observe her work. "Meanwhile, a simple poultice ought to do him good." Within moments she had another made up and was showing Remus how and when to apply it to Harry's eyes every few hours.
Madame Pomfrey left soon enough with a promise to return within the next few days for a check up and strict instructions to rest! Remus was about to announce Albus' presence when a quick look advised him to stop. Puzzled, the wizard nodded his head before telling Harry that he could rest up on the couch and move to his room when he woke again later, when he was strong enough for the walk. Harry nodded his head sleepily, replaced the twin wrappings, and let his head fall back on the soft pillow. "G'nigh', Professor."
"Remus," the wizard corrected.
"Right, um, Remus. Good night."
"Good night, Harry." Leaving the drawing room door open, Remus followed the Headmaster to the dismal coloured kitchen and again offered the aged wizard some tea. Albus nodded and took a seat at the table.
"And how have you been, Remus?" The werewolf made a movement with his shoulders, a dry smile aimed toward the tea pot he was stooping over.
The smile turned into a frown after a moment and, after pouring two cups, he turned around with a curious expression. "Albus, is it true then? Severus can no longer act as our primary spy?"
Albus took a sip of tea and added three more lumps of sugar to the two he had already mixed in. "It is true."
Remus nodded silently, taking a sip of his own tea. "What will happen now?"
The Headmaster shook his head slowly, staring into his tea. "I'm not sure anymore, Remus. I'm beginning to wonder if I ever was…I think, perhaps, my mistakes have numbered more than I had originally suspected. The wounds leave scars, Remus." Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to be completely aware of his surroundings and Remus shifted uncomfortably under the piercing blue gaze. "But the memories run deeper…they change things. Unexpected and…no amount of careful planning and watching can save them." Remus quirked a brow, them? "They say age brings wisdom, but it only brings the realization that perfection is unattainable. Life must be sacrificed. Mistakes always come back to haunt you. Perhaps I've lived too long, Remus." While saddened blue eyes gazed down at the table, silver-streaked brown hair swayed as the head attached shot up in alarm.
"Albus?"
Silver hair shifted as the bent head looked up with benign, smiling eyes, the shadow receding into their secret depths. "Would you look at that, Remus, this beard really is much too long. It's gotten into my tea."
Next: Chapter 7 –Gilded Cage
"Upon reflection, it really was the most perfectly gilded cage ever created. And it was all for him. Harry had his friends, his laughs, the closest thing he could possibly have to a family and to all appearances he had everything he could want. All, it seemed, except for his freedom."
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything to do with him belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bro. and probably a lot more people than I am aware of. I am not making any profit from this; it is purely for my own amusement.
Many thanks to my wonderful beta reader Lilpadfoot17!
Reviewers: glassdragon2, SaphirePhoenix , Lanfear1, purplepaper, eyeinthesky, kathy, andSuzuki-Chan
Also, thanks to the people of Anything that's HP, Dreams of Living Nightmares, HP Severitus & Snarry Fan Fic, My favorite, Main Character Snape, Harry, time travel, and my Fiction Stories for adding the fic to their C2 archives!
Snape and Harry's Wild Magic:
Checking over the next few chapters that I've got outlined, I realise that I never explain why or how Snape knew to make Harry so very angry as to elicit such a response. SaphirePhoenix asked in their review so here it goes. Back in book three, when Harry blew up the unforgettable and lovely Aunt Marge, it isn't likely that it would have remained a secret for long. I figured Dumbledore would have saved the information for a time when it might come in handy. Armed with the information that riling up Harry and the fact that Snape may be his only chance of being rescued, with a year's worth of "Remedial" lessons gone sour under both their belts. In a chapter that I decided was rather pointless, Snape and Dumbledore trade ideas on how to rescue the Gryffindor Golden Boy. If the original plan meets a road block Snape was to do anything he could to make Harry lose his temper and, consequently, his control. The most obvious way to get to Harry is obviously by slandering what is closest to him. His parents, his friends, and his God father. And on that note.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter!