I sit on an old raggy bed in the corner of a dingy room. I hold a small, torn off piece of parchment that has just flown through the window via a small tawny owl. I look at it with surprise. Owls seldom fly now. That was the old communication. Now there are darker forms, deeply rooted underground. The only clear message now is a frequent Dark Mark high above in the sky, hovering. A reminder to all of who rules. The parchment basically reads: We need to talk. SS.
Stupid message really, we talked last night. Or did we? The throbbing in my brain clouds all real memory. Anyway, I hate it when people feel they have to talk to me. What is there to talk about anymore? The last time I had to talk to someone it was Harry. I said: I am pregnant therefore I am leaving the Order. Goodbye.
Oh, but of course, I do still have to talk to Harry. He must still be sleeping next door. Twelve hours he has had now. Barely enough considering the amount he must have forced himself awake. Nevertheless I would rather talk to him now than later.
I pound on the door. No reply.
"Alohomora", I chant uncomfortably.
I haven't used magic openly for a very long time. Magic is defined now as Good or Bad, making a brew using heating enhancement is viewed as personal gain and therefore Dark Magic nowadays. That is what the new teachers tell the students. Anyway, I slowly open the door to see Harry still slumped on his bed but perfectly awake.
"What do you want?" he moaned.
Great, he still hasn't recovered from his bad mood. I take a deep breath and close the door, sitting myself on the edge of the bed.
"I've got a letter for you," I say, getting out a piece of A4 paper. This letter was the only reason I felt inspired to come and find Harry. It came in the post a fortnight ago, going back to Muggle systems is the best way forward, I believe.
"Who's it from?" Harry asks, he doesn't take the letter off me, nor does he even look at it.
"Fred" I reply.
"Fred hates me," he says coarsely. I bite my tongue as I realise just how much he blames himself for everything.
"Nobody hates you Harry. Well, nobody from our side. Please read this letter. It gives us the location of the remaining segments of the Order, people are congregating together. Even old members that were thought long gone."
"Like you, you mean" he bites back.
My head involuntarily drops down, yes like me. I am one of those lost sheep.
"I haven't asked you by the way," he interrupts, "Was it a girl or boy?"
I lift my head up again slightly, he speaks with such loathe about my first born child.
"A boy," I chirp, "I named him George because, well, in memory. He is nearly ten now. And I have a little girl who's eight. I named her Harriet, but I call her Harry as a pet name sometimes"
I feel such guilt now, in my own kid's names!
Harry doesn't look bothered what so ever. He carries on staring at the blank wall infront of him.
"Here, have the letter. Tell me what you want me to do once you have read it." I say, sticking the thing underneath his nose. He looks at it now, unfolds it but folds it back up again before reading it.
"This is not worth it. Whatever they have to say I do not care. Nothing can stop Voldemort now, his powers were too strong for me last year and now he'll be even stronger."
I shudder, as usual, stupid I know. He's right too. Too many heroic wizards have died trying to defeat him, or aid Harry in defeating him – all because of that stupid prophecy.
"Kill or be killed. Remember that Harry? Both you and He are still alive. Both of you are breathing. Therefore a prophecy has not yet been fulfilled, it can sway either way."
He exhales in defeat, "Sometimes I wish Voldemort had fulfilled it years ago. The agony we have all been through is just unbearable. I swear he wants all the damage done while I am alive, making me feel more and more helpless as I watch more and more of my followers die."
"Then don't let him win!" I yell, "If he's just keeping you alive to watch you suffer then there is still some hope that the prophecy will be fulfilled in your favour."
He laughs at me. He is laughing at me now. The stupid defeated, scruffy man is laughing at me. He is behaving like a coward. This is wasting my time.
"Just go, Hermione. Go back to your Muggle husband and your Mudblood kids."
Furious I get up to leave. My wand is drawn in an urge to hex him, but that's no good he will only get the satisfaction. I sit back down again, frustrated. The old Harry would never have used such vulgar terms to describe me. The old Harry had no part in him that was prejudice or racist. Filthy man he has grown into. I get up, only this time I do leave.
The tawny owl perches at the foot of my bed. She hoots softly to make me aware of her presence. I look at her; she has been ordered to stay here until I return the message. Snape is obviously desperate to see me. I grab the pathetic piece of parchment and turn it over to the blank side. I grab a dried up quill from the table in the corner and use the remaining droplets to scribble the message: Shrieking Shack, seven thirty.
That'll have to do. Gives me time to think up some type of plan.
The Shrieking Shack still scares me. I know it was only viewed as haunted once because of Remus Lupin using it when he changed state to a werewolf. Now, however, the place could be used for anything by anybody. Why did I pick here? Why not some nice Tapas bar in the middle of London that my husband takes me to. A place, which Snape could not find, but it wouldn't be my fault for not getting back to him. Whatever he wants doesn't matter. I came here to save Harry, nothing else. His dark figure approaches me from the other direction of which I came. The night is so cold I can see his breath moving out of his mouth, under his cloak. He stops, takes down his hood to reveal his identity. I nod, my breath mixing in with his.
"Still not willing to tell me where Harry is?" he asks.
"No but you wouldn't be here to just ask me that," I reply.
"True. In fact, I have a proposition for you Miss Granger. You look to be ready for a challenge now that you have returned to the wizarding world, well I have one that may suit your interests."
I begin to wish I had set the location of this meeting somewhere in the middle of the Himalayas and insisted on no apparating. I did not want to meet him, now I just want to go.
"I came back for one challenge. I do not have time for any others." I start to walk away but he grabs me firmly by the arm so that I skid to a halt again.
"You're not taking me anywhere," I insist but as soon as I've spoken the words I feel an old familiar feeling. A feeling of being jerked away from the ground I'm standing on and then this feeling of being stuck in a void of nowhere. I now feel ground under my feet again, and a favourite room of mine comes into view. It's dark and I sense nobody about the house. I feel Snape's grip on me loosen and then hear him walk to the other side of the room.
"12 Grimmauld Place, honestly, you know this is the most obvious place for the Order to meet. I am not staying here and Harry is certainly not."
"So you know where Potter is then?"
Stupid git was always able to extract the truth sooner or later. I don't reply to the question.
"What are we doing here?"
"This is where the remaining members of the Order are returning to, whenever they have information they wish to reveal," he replied plainly.
"Anything worth revealing?" I ask.
"Quite frankly, no. The Dark Lord's layer is protected so that only Death Eaters know its location. Apart from the obvious killings and tortures that are reported anyway we have nothing to go on. At this moment The Order has no access to the Dark Lord's plans."
Good, I thought, let's keep it that way. All I want him to do is resurface for a second or two so that Harry can do a quick Avada Kedavracurse.
As if reading my thoughts Snape says: "You know we can't defeat him by direct confrontation. It requires cunning, the type of cunning only the purest of evil owns."
The way he speaks, cunning, pure and well, basically evil – they were the traits I so closely associated with the old house members of Slytherin.
"However," he goes on, "I have a way into the layer. I intend to return to my old role I used obtain for the Order."
"Spying." I replied.
"Only I cannot do it alone."
I feared something as such. Should I just "pop" out of here before I get dragged into something I don't want?
"It's a suicide mission of which I do not want to take part in. Sorry, like I said before I only want to go about this in my own way."
"I do not blame you. Although, it would be extremely selfish to pass up this chance," he hisses. I understand what he's trying to do; he's now playing on my guilt. But I came back to fix things, I came to conquer that guilt.
"You cannot fix things through the same old tactics you and Potter used in Hogwarts"
He said, I swear he is using Legilimency. This is making me even more on edge.
"Tell me then: Why should I trust a man who supposedly died ten years ago?"
I sit down on one of the remaining chairs, bony and dusty it is but a chair nonetheless.
"Only elite members of the Order knew I had taken a "Death Potion" that would technically kill me for forty eight hours. When I awoke I became a full Death Eater, no retuning to the Order with daily reports. I've been doing so ever since. I didn't flinch from what I was told to do even when the Order dissolved. Not till tonight anyway."
Somehow I feel dumbstruck and honour that he had broken a pact to talk to me whom he always viewed as a feeble member. However, I really do not believe it.
"Elite members you say. Who?"
"Dumbledore and Harry were the only ones who knew."
"Impossible. You died after Dumbledore…"
"It was his wishes that I did it, he said I should give up being a spy as soon as I felt my role was in jeopardy. Then I should remain in the Dark Lord's closest circle."
"And you still are, I presume"
I start to feel uncomfortable; he has me backed into a corner. A quick hex and he would have me prisoner. I am here, alone, with a Death Eater. I left my husband to end up in a situation like this.
"I am yes," he said and moves towards the light. He pulls up the sleeve of his robe to reveal the Dark Mark symbol firmly pierced onto his skin. I shudder. If I could just quickly apparate, could he trace where I go? Somewhere protected, like an all-Muggle residence. No, exposure risk. Damn it – where? Hogwarts…
"If you leave, you will have only heard the bad part of what I want to tell you."
"It's the only part I need to know. I don't see any flip side of what you have to say, nothing that could be good. No silver lining in that cloud," I say as I slowly edge towards the door. A quick dash into the street could maybe startle him into not using magic on me.
"Like I said earlier I have a proposition for you," he says with his voice softer than before.
"Like I said earlier I am not interested," my voice as ever stubborn.
"I have got ten years worth of information at your disposal Miss Granger. You can use it, and anything else we receive in the meantime, to calculate this wonderful plan you need for Potter."
"We receive? No, I am not doing anything with you!"
"I can't do it alone. I have gained their trust but only at the price of sinking too deep. I need your assistance and only your assistance will do. I need that intelligence you possess that I used to loathe, that and your female charm should infatuate them enough to…"
"What are you trying to suggest? That I act like a tart, to do what exactly? Seduce them into giving me information. Forget it."
"You wouldn't be flouncing yourself about at all. They do not tolerate such conduct," I now hear his voice softening as if showing a hint of care.
He says: "You will not like what I am going to suggest."
I look at him, I do not like anything he suggests. But a suggestion that I would like is a suggestion that is likely to fail. He says he can't do it alone. Well, without Harry's support neither can I.
I sigh, "Whatever you suggest isn't really a suggestion is it? You know I have to do what you tell me to do. We are the only active members and we can't defeat You-Know-Who individually and alone."
