A/N: Well, well, well – here we go. I decided to use Severus as our eyes throughout this chapter instead of just partly, so you guys can find out where on earth he's been.
Answers to reviews at the bottom as usual. Disclaimer applies universally, of course.
In this chapter, we find out what the Order has been doing to find Harry, what Snape has been up to on his recruiting trip to Romania, and what he does with the awful news that Harry is in Voldemort's hands…Enjoy…
Chapter 10: The Hippogriffs Are Sad
Finally, was the word that always came to Severus without fail, after an international trip, as he felt his feet land (shakily) again on British soil. Finally, indeed, he repeated to himself, watching as the refugees – recruits, Dumbledore calls them, he thought, lip lifting in disdain – appeared in straggles, the tiny family of three appearing first, and holding his attention like always.
The mother, as he perceived it, was tall and forbidding, though years of hardship in her native land seemed to have taken much of her peculiar beauty, leaving behind a fierce nobility that had puzzled, but not occupied him, embroiled as he had been in the various obstacles that had prevented their little expedition arriving in England on time. She shared her dark hair and eyes with her husband, whose face was far harder. He had hooded, masked eyes, almost as black as Severus' own, and a highly suspicious demeanour about him. Their daughter, last to rise to her feet – evidently unaccustomed to international Apparation – was the one who captured the eye most – not that he would ever show it, not to those fierce, flinty eyes, a sign that her lovely features and delicate, hooded eyes hid something far stronger than her slightly plump little frame seemed to contain.
"All right, Severus?" he suppressed the urge to start and fire off a Stunner, whirling round to meet the familiar voice. He glared at the newcomer – it was that fool, Argus Pritchard, one of the newer recruits of the Order, almost as jolly and round as that other fool, Veron. Not so jolly today, Severus observed maliciously, inclining his head toward him impatiently, wondering what ailed him.
Or so he did, at least, until the dour, weary Potions Master peered closely at his companion, as he drew closer – even in this dark night, he could see him twitching with some nameless emotion or recollection, despair emanating so strongly from his thinner self that the accomplished Legilimens felt like recoiling.
"What happened, Argus?" he asked quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of their eleven recruits, who were still shaking with the after-effects of the long series of jumps they had just performed, all the way from Romania.
"Not here, Severus," Pritchard got out, jerking his head in something that appeared to be meant as a shake. "Not here…" he eyed Severus almost wildly, even as his wife conversed with a drawn, pale Charlie Weasley, who had just appeared close by, nearer to the edge of the tiny clearing they stood within.
"All clear, Severus – we can start for secondary Headquarters, as Charlie informs me we're not being followed…" came Rosemary Pritchard's stern, commanding tone, underlain by something, Severus thought, with astonishment, remarkably like fear. He exchanged an uneasy glance with the Weasley boy – something he would never have deigned to do, before this trip. The boy had proven surprisingly resourceful, helping to extract the frightened family of that boy from the Triwizard Tournament – Krum, he remembered, snorting to himself – amidst the attack that nearly put a stop to their uncertain little mission once and for all.
"Come here," Severus ordered them all, dropping to his knees and opening up the medium-sized grey case he never went without, withdrawing several tiny little vials from its pockets and compartments. He enlarged all of them with a few flicks, levitating one to each member of the party. "Energizing Potion," he supplied, at the dubious looks everyone but the Weasley boy and the Order members directed at him. "I advise you to drink," he continued acidly, "unless you'd rather drop along the way…we must walk to the nearest safe fireplace, from where we will Floo to Headquarters. Walk quickly, and silently, and be ready with your wands, for Merlin's sake, if you want to survive the rest of this journey." He downed his own, slightly stronger vial of potion, then disposed of the rest of the vials immediately, Banishing them to a ditch he knew not far from the clearing.
"You know my dangers, all of you – if we are seen by our enemies, I must separate and attack you, or depart, and hope that no one sees me do so." Severus said that with the certainty of a man who would kill anyone unfortunate enough to see him thus, and was therefore assured of his safety. "If I am called, you will follow Weasley, and these two Order members here, to safety. If we are attacked by Death Eaters, you must stick close to them, and join hands when they tell you to. If you are left behind in the escape attempt, we will not rescue you – we cannot, with our resources so low." He glared at each of them in turn, only the family of three and the two elder Krums glaring back. "It is up to you to make sure that does not happen. Let us go."
And, with that, they set off for the nearby abandoned farmhouse, as fast as their limbs could carry them, Severus Snape going before them, his dark cloak disappearing in the darkness of the forest. They all walked and jogged intermittently in silence, stopping once or twice when Severus raised his hand, and he and the Weasley boy searched with magic for a mile's radius around them, for any sort of foe or being that could further impede their journey.
Three such stops later, their journey was at an end. The abandoned farmhouse loomed in a clearing before them, its peeling whitewashed stone shining starkly in the moonlight that penetrated the larger clearing. After Severus scanned the clearing again, motioning to the others to keep back in the trees, he stepped forward, muttering the passwords needed to lower the strong wards he'd risen here two weeks ago. The wards lowered easily, and the tired party stepped forward, pouring eagerly into the house, which was far warmer than the chill, bracing night air outside.
The house was empty of furnishings and paint, but had sturdy stone walls that reeked of magic. As the dishevelled party warmed themselves by the magical fire that soon roared in the huge fireplace in the empty living room, Severus allowed himself a moment of pride, even as he and the Weasley boy enlarged the huge boxes of Floo Powder they had taken on their persons at all times. He'd done it – his task was almost over, now that they were all quaking by the fire in Dumbledore's empty cottage, two hundred miles from Hogwarts, hidden deep in an old wood no Muggle or Wizard had ventured into for years. Snape nodded slightly to himself, conjuring pieces of paper with the requisite words.
"Take these – memorize them as fast as you can – " he ordered, distributing the papers hastily. "You will be Flooing to that location immediately, one by one. Weasley," the boy nodded wearily, "will go first, to ensure that all is well. When he returns, you will line up and Floo to Grimmauld Place one by one, followed by Weasley, the Pritchards," he nodded at the two sombre Order members, "and myself. I will temporarily close the connection as I follow you, so no one and nothing can return. I advise you now to forget this cottage exists – you would never have been able to find it without my help, as it is owned by Headmaster Dumbledore himself." Snorting inwardly at the surprise on all their expressions, he nodded to Charlie Weasley, who left at once.
He took next to no time to return, Severus having gathered the pieces of paper and destroyed them, making acid comments along the way. A look of puzzlement was his honest, too-open, freckled face.
"What is it?" Snape barked at him. He had no patience for blithering now – they had eleven recruits to ferry to the rotting mansion, all beginning to shiver again with exhaustion. Even now, he could feel the effects of the strengthening potion begin to withdraw, leaving him gasping sporadically for breath.
"Odd – doesn't matter – should go ahead – "
"You heard him – go on – "
The exodus began, and proceeded smoothly, Romanian and Bulgarian accents pronouncing the same four words again and again: "Numbler Twelve, Grimmauld Place!" Weasley soon went, followed by the Pritchard woman. The man turned to him, looking almost miserable.
"Severus – I must warn you, great misfortune has befallen us – " he began, shakily. The dour man exploded angrily – the fool was weakening rapidly, just as he was, and he had no desire to be stuck ferrying his bulk to Grimmauld Place when he himself could barely stand any longer.
"Misfortune that must wait! Begone, before you faint into those flames and leave me stuck with your fat carcass!" Snape snapped at him hoarsely, leaning heavily against the mantle, watching the man quiver with fear, as he cast the powder into the place, and intoned the four words. Severus followed him rapidly, incanting the words that would raise the wards again and close the Floo connection behind him once he was gone.
It was well past his bedtime, and, as he was in need of a much needed rest, so it was easy to dismiss Pritchard's warning momentarily, despite the look of rabid fear and despair on the man's usually disgustingly cheerful countenance. Severus Floo'ed directly to one of the small bedrooms he knew was connected to the Network, the one containing the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus, collapsing into the bed within as the green flames died down. The misfortune, he thought, could wait.
Five hours of unbroken deep, sleep later, Severus was woken by someone tearing through the wards he'd laid round the bed. He bolted into action, furious that someone would actually think to wake him by force…
…and came face to face with a positively feral Remus Lupin, who looked rather like he dearly wanted to rip Severus open with his bare hands. Or claws – Severus checked quickly, reaching for his wand. He'd never heard of a werewolf transforming due to rage, but still –
"What do you think you are doing?" Remus hissed at him. Severus blinked, rather surprised, as he'd just been about to ask the question.
"Sleeping, Lupin – an activity I need to continue, if you'll – "
"Get up," snarled the werewolf, actually deigning to manhandle the shocked (and increasingly angry) Potions Master off the bed.
"How dare you – " Severus spluttered, still feeling tremors in his tired legs and arms, as he wavered on his feet, turning smoothly to face the still-seething werewolf, whose eyes glowed with feral light as he spoke again.
"Drink a potion, drink your own blood, I don't care what you do – you're coming now, to the Order meeting below, whether I'll have to drag you there or not – "
"Have you lost your sen – "
"Drink your potion!" thundered Lupin, seizing Severus by the arms and shaking him. "If you care anything for your son, drink them and come now!" That got Severus' attention, but in rather the wrong way. He violently wrenched himself from the arms of the werewolf, two spots of colour appearing in his cheeks.
"Are you mad? I have no – "
"Harry told me," Lupin said, leaving go of him abruptly, grabbing up the grey case that Severus had lain by his bed.
"Don't do that – give that here – " A small struggle ensued as the two men grappled momentarily over the grey case. Severus managed to wrest it from him, finally starting to feel a little alarmed at the state of Lupin, who was quivering with rage, and yet, seemed to be steeped, much like the two jumpy Pritchards, in despair. Acting on instinct, he drew forth one of his stronger Energising Potions, enlarging it and downing it in several gulps, and reshrinking his case so he could carry it hidden on his person, and be ready for whatever task befell him now.
That blasted boy of his – no telling what trouble he'd embroiled himself in this time –
"Hurry!" Severus almost stared at Lupin, who was now curling his fists into his shaggy, messy hair, an expression of near madness crossing his haggard face. Severus obeyed, wondering what on earth could be going on, following Lupin down the still-creaking staircases of Grimmauld Place, to the large kitchen in the basement. He slipped silently into the room behind a now-trembling Lupin, then stopped, shocked by the atmosphere within.
The air in the large room, nearly empty of all its normal furniture – he spied the usual tables and chairs in a corner of the room, shrunk out of the way of the many Conjured chairs that filled the space – positively hummed with tension. Severus gulped involuntarily, feeling guilty for avoiding the meeting he'd known would be taking place, and which, by the fervour of raised voices within the room, was well underway. As he threaded his way to a small seat (the usual one he tried to take near the fireplace), he was thrown off by the lack of attention paid to his entrance, as well as that of Lupin.
Snape sat quickly, his blood beginning to race with the tension that lay thick in the air, wondering, for the third time, what on earth could be going on. Usually, a large number of people eyed him as he came in, either with fear and trepidation (mostly from old students he'd taught) or aversion and mistrust. Today, they barely even noticed him – people were arguing loudly, pressing close to someone he knew must be the Headmaster, by the flashes of purple, starred robes he could glean from amidst the tumult. Suddenly, the standing crowd around Albus Dumbledore separated enough for the old wizard to catch sight of his dour spy, and his voice cut through the general clamour as he approached him.
"Severus! Thank Merlin – I was beginning to think something had gone wrong…" he peered at Snape, who felt guilt stab him sharply as he examined his true master's countenance. He looks so weary…I should have come earlier –
"I do not see the Krums, or the rest of the recruits," was Snape's brusque reply, as he rose to meet the old man halfway. "You have been waiting for me?" As he drew closer to Dumbledore, the old wizard's appearance disturbed him even more – the lines in his face seemed to be more deeply drawn than ever, and his shoulders seemed to sag under a heavy burden. Remembering the mysterious imprecation of Lupin, he scanned the room quickly, as he had not thought to do at first, for Ha – his son. "I do not see Potter in our midst, Headmaster," Severus put forth coldly, a sharp anxiety blossoming and taking hold in his heart, taking him by surprise. "Is the boy in trouble, as usual?"
"You bastard," a loud hiss came suddenly from behind him. Snape turned sharply on the source of it, finding himself face to face with the drawn visage of Ronald Weasley, whose features practically shone with malice. "You don't care – you don't even care – " Sharp words from the Granger girl quieted him to a low, angry mutter, even as Snape saw, with not a little alarm, that she was just as drawn and pale as the Weasley boy was. He needed to know –
"Harry was kidnapped, Severus," the voice of Dumbledore came from behind him, the words stunning the spy, who turned abruptly on his master, his countenance strangely alive with horror. "A week ago, in Diagon Alley, the Death Eaters surrounded him, overwhelming him and Ginevra Weasley and apprehending him by portkey, and we have not heard of or from him since…"
The words seemed to Severus like sharp knives, that stabbed him again and again, his face bleaching whiter than normal as he stared at the Headmaster, not fully comprehending –
"Do you understand, Severus?" Dumbledore's blue eyes pinned him, full of sorrow, piercing through him.
"What? But the Dark Lord did not call me – "
"You know well what he believed of your trip, Severus," Dumbledore cut in sharply, fear entering into those hard blue eyes.
All too suddenly, Severus Snape knew what was being asked of him, or thought he did, for he straightened, like a black arrow, his face becoming blank.
He would gladly do it, give this – and gladly wring the neck of that boy of his, when he found him, for driving the Headmaster to this state.
"I will go, Headmaster – but first, I must – "
Dumbledore slowly shook his head. Severus' eyes widened, as he struggled to keep his face a blank mask, his thoughts whirling furiously behind his dark gaze.
"But, Headmaster – "
"No, Severus." Dumbledore's words hammered down on him, so that he almost reeled with the pure jolts of shock that shivered through him. The room, around them, was still, except for sniffs coming from unknown quarters. They were all silent, almost resentfully so, as if they'd heard the argument behind this – this folly before –
"Headmaster, it is not wise – " Severus began, rage and despair starting to bubble in his blood. Dumbledore cut him off again, starting to move back towards his former position at the centre of the room, speaking slowly.
"We have searched, Severus – in every way possible to us, without abandoning the guardianship of our most valuable resources and locations. We have searched in vain – eight days, he has been gone, and nothing – nothing – " anger seeped into the old wizard's tone, a mixture of anger and helplessness that struck fear into the dour spy's heart. Dumbledore sat heavily, eyes turning on him again, almost pleading.
"You would risk your position taking action, Severus – you remember what happened last time, when you went before Voldemort when he did not summon you." He paused, blue eyes hardening with resolve. "He is becoming bold, Severus – far too bold…" The old man's eyes held his, shimmering with awful intensity. "The purpose of this meeting is to organise the cessation of our search, and the redirection of our efforts towards aiding the Ministry against the numerous attacks – "
"No…" the single word rent the air, the grief in it so palpable it made Severus flinch. Lupin rose to his feet near the Headmaster, an awful expression on his face as he made for Dumbledore, his frame shaking with fury. "I won't – I will not abandon him – he is all I have left – " His words seemed to tear at the air, seemed to fill the silent, tense room with the grief and fury of one man.
"There is nothing else to be done, Remus," Dumbledore rose to his feet, meeting Lupin's wild fury with radiating strength. "I need you elsewhere – "
"And if he isn't dead?"
The words hung in the air, weighing Snape down, his heart and mind suddenly battling with such ferocity that he felt himself begin to shake in his seat – he didn't remember sitting down –
"And if he is?" Dumbledore's quiet, forceful tone filled the room, finally stirring it from its oppressive silence. He continued to speak, over the angry murmurings that raged across the room, as everyone fought against the terrible truth of those words.
Severus bowed his head, gripping his knees so tightly they hurt, the battle raging on within him.
If Harry is dead…Horror and resolve mingled within him, jolting him into action. If Harry was indeed dead, their cause was all but lost – their very survival hinged, now, on striking back at the forces of Voldemort with impunity, and garnering as many allies as possible to their side. Severus shook his head violently. They had to be ready, and be strong. Dumbledore's awful words rang dismally in his heart, filling him with despair.
He just wished, bitterly, that he could do something, for once.
Severus drew his breath sharply in between his teeth, feeling the throb of loss begin within him. It wasn't fair, he angrily told himself. Harry – he could not deny him that now – Harry should be here, within this same room, eyeing him rudely and making even ruder comments, displaying his ineptness to everyone, not lying dead in some nameless grave near Voldemort.
Hatred like he'd never known before welled up in him, filling his ears with the roaring of his charged blood. The Dark Lord took everything – it just wasn't –
"He's not dead," the wild tones of the Weasley boy came from behind him. Severus did not turn round – he knew what he would see.
Anger. Despair.
"Ron, please – " The Granger girl's thin, anxious tone held more of what ran rampant within the dark kitchen…and even within him.
Helplessness.
It seemed to flood through him, leaving a hopeless anger in its wake. Nothing the boy suffered ever seemed to be enough – he'd surely earned the right to live, surely earned the right to struggle foolishly for the Weasley girl's useless affections –
"What about Veron?" the soft voice came from behind him – it was her, she sounded so –
Veron.
Snape cursed, a new current of fear and anger running through him. If he was a spy – if he had turned –
"What do you speak of, Weasley?" he demanded, turning on the pale girl.
"He was there," she answered bitterly, uncaring that she spoke to the man she still saw, no doubt, as Harry's enemy – "He cursed me – he laughed – " Anger shined through her, lighting her empty eyes, making her look ghastly, almost terrifying. "Merlin – if I ever – " She trailed off, fury seeping off her in waves. For the first time, Severus could see her in that awful Chamber – see the traces of the young, evil boy that still accompanied her frank face and red, innocuous hair – but no matter.
The matter now, Severus told himself, is my son.
Dumbledore argued on, refuting the desperate claims of the Weasley boy, who would not be silent, and of Lupin, whose grief and rage drove him to stand and argue and storm before the whole Order, which still murmured their own grief, their own helplessness.
Severus listened with only one ear, of course. Dumbledore has evidently given up, or, at least, he thought that much, staring at the deepened lines on the Headmaster's face. Many will follow him – it would be unwise not to, but…
But. There was always one, sometimes several, perplexing and worrying Snape with their ramifications. He could not stay here, and work covertly against Voldemort as he was now forced to, for fear of being seen to associate overmuch with the Order members. He could not leave and begin a search for – for his son alone, or with any sort of company – that fool Lupin would savage me before I left on that mission without him, he thought wryly. The Order needed him, and greatly, especially in the event that there – Severus' heart beat painfully – nothing left to find.
There had to be other avenues of finding what he needed to know, there had to. Severus sat through the rest of the meeting in a daze, formulating plans of action and throwing them aside, assuring himself of what he would need to find out.
He needed, first of all, to alert the Dark Lord of his return. I will be tortured, of course, Severus mused, his dark eyes unseeing of the chaos surrounding him. For daring to go to my relatives, even when it displeased him – but that is no matter. What I need to know is the most important thing –
Find out Veron, and how he joined. Severus' thin lips became even thinner – he'd see the fat fool roast on an open spit if he'd done anything to Harry –
Find out if Harry still lives. Severus did not allow his heart to dwell on that one. It was too painful…far too painful. He put it from his mind with practiced motions – the third thing would undoubtedly take care of that –
Find out what the Dark Lord is planning. This would be, perhaps, the hardest and most lengthy task – it was now evident to him that he had fallen in his hated Lord's disfavour, and would need to do something, or bring some information to –
Every Order medallion in the room suddenly lit brightly, as they were supposed to. Severus found his unruly heart beating much too fast – if it was Harry, somehow –
"No – " Dumbledore's whisper of denial silenced the room better than a shout could, as he peered at the flashing words on the clear side of his own, rather larger medallion. His old, lined face came up from his reading of the medallion – it had to be bad news, of course, but – suddenly the Headmaster stood, the lines of his tall frame resonating with power and fury.
"What is – " someone began.
"Hogsmeade, my friends," Dumbledore said, stilling the room in its panic. "It is under attack…"
Chaos exploded under those four words, everyone dashing to their feet almost all at once, laying hold of wands and such.
Severus rose too, summoning his much larger, darker case of potions. The Order would need all the help they could get, and they received it in the form of Energizing and Healing Potions, and began to Floo out of the two or three fireplaces of the house like an unbroken, wild flow of water. Remus handed out unobtrusive portkeys for the wounded, his despair still evident on his wolfish features.
Severus, watching the defeated, yet determined exodus of Order members, bowed his head, and wondered.
Wondered if he'd ever again set eyes on his – his son – presumably dead at the Dark Lord's hand.
Severus gripped his wand tightly as he strode for the fireplace, being one of the last few adults to leave, apart from the rebellious Weasley brats and Granger, who all begged to join the action. He would do his part well – he would find out the truth, and use it.
And use it well – to free his son, if he could.
And the squabbling family of Weasleys would wonder for a long, long time, why Severus Snape had a small bounce in his step. It was as if, Ginny would later remark, he had new reason – new purpose.
A/N: Well, well, well, again. Answers to reviews are on my livejournal, the link to which is on my profile page as usual (i go by uchethegirl on livejournal, just for extra info). Feel free to post comments or suggestions – I'll be glad to hear them. The next chapter, Chapter 11, is fittingly named Desperate Deeds: Reprise. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
