Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium

Part II : Oh What a Difference a Day Makes
Chapter Eighteen : The Chaps in the White Hats

25 October 2003 (continued)

2:45 pm

Though normally a patient man, Shacklebolt's guts roiled as they passed the third hour after talking to the Headmaster without finding Snape and Lupin. Not that they'd been actively looking for them all that time. Almost ten minutes had been spent pretending to listen to the last minute instructions every leader, even Dumbledore, feels the need to give that one's heard at least a million times before. Moody had insisted on spending a quarter of an hour in Snape's private lab rummaging through the shelves. For all his efforts, he only took two bottles. Then there was another quarter-hour needed to walk to the Apparation point, through the dungeons of all things--he still didn't understand that one--it was almost as if Dumbledore didn't want them to be seen, but that was absurd.

It hadn't got much better once they'd arrived. The mile-long walk to the Manor had been tense, although, they'd managed quite well with a Disillusionment spell at first; however, once they'd passed the unmarked outer edge of the wards, their disguises fell away. He supposed he should be grateful their presence hadn't set off an alarm, or so Moody remarked when he conferred with a little device he said he'd stolen from Snape's lab. Shacklebolt wondered how he'd missed that little detail.

Within the wards, they passed through several formal gardens, the subtle patterns of which were designed to confuse the mind and overwhelm the senses. Which, as he'd observed to Moody, explained why there were no alarms in the wards; anyone 'in the know' would go elsewhere while 'unwanted visitors' would simply wander aimlessly through the labyrinth until they starved to death. As fortune would have it, Moody's magical eye could see through the subterfuge, so Moody and Shacklebolt (who held onto Moody's cloak) walked a clear path to the Manor proper relatively unscathed. But not necessarily unnoticed. The closer they got to the building, the lower the foliage grew, until the amount of concealing cover available in the landscape would barely satisfy the modesty of a harlot, let alone two grown men trying to sneak in somewhere they didn't belong.

Once they'd reached the edge of the manor, they'd still needed to get inside, unless (as Moody had caustically pointed out) Lucius thought fresh air and sunshine constituted some kind of torture for the dungeon dwelling Potions master. Shacklebolt had chuckled quietly on the image of Snape screaming in the sunlight, but with Moody's serious face and raised brow, he began to wonder if Moody was really joking.

They'd made almost a complete circuit around the perimeter of the building (including dodging house-elves at the impressive front entry) when they'd spotted a large rat nosing along the wall. Reasoning that the rat looked starved, Moody postulated that the bugger, if looking for food, might just find them all a way in. Surprisingly, he'd been right. Not too much later, when the rat disappeared without a trace, Moody investigated a section of the stone wall around the area where 'the bugger' had been last seen and found some irregularities. Once Moody determined the whole section of wall was much like the entrance to Diagon Alley, they searched for the 'lock'. Shacklebolt found it by accident when he leaned on a stone with his elbow while resting against the wall. If Moody hadn't caught him by the arm, he'd have tumbled headfirst down a steep flight of stone steps.

As cautious as ever while going down the steps and exploring the first passageway, (and Merlin, if he heard the words Constant Vigilance from Moody one more time...) they'd spent some anxious moments anticipating the 'army' sure to greet them when they passed through the anti-Apparation wards they'd felt when entering. He hated being with Moody when he was 'tense', not that Moody was ever relaxed, but being with the man when he was really alert was exhausting. Making a small mark on the wall, they'd set off exploring the passages, eventually coming back to their starting point several times. Not that this had been their intention, but, as Moody pointed out, they were now sure there were two sets of passages, each in a circle, each connected at odd intervals with open areas and, in two cases, connected by stairs going upwards. That had been an hour ago and in the ensuing time, he and Moody had been systematically checking out each room they encountered in the hopes of finding their colleagues.

Shacklebolt was aware of time passing through his hand like water slowly draining down a clogged basin. And he'd remained fairly calm about the whole situation, until ten minutes ago, when they'd heard a blood-curdling scream echo off the walls of the dungeons. Moody, his head tilted to listen, had merely said 'house-elf'. Heart pounding, Shacklebolt was not going to gainsay him; he had no idea what the hell had made that awful sound, but he was very glad to hear it wasn't human.

Two hours of ducking into rooms each time they heard the unmistakable, piping voices of house elves approaching. Two hours of some of the nastiest spaces Shacklebolt had ever been in; mostly store rooms full of half-rotting furniture covered in layers of dust and cobwebs, but the one they'd just left, relatively clean and well lit with a faint 'taste' of lingering magic, looked like some kind of torture chamber with a table full of instruments that had made his blood run cold.

Two hours of Moody occasionally breaking the fraught silence with the gruff hiss of one of his off-colour comments meant to take the edge off the moment, making the still-fruitless search easier to endure. Two hours of whispering inane comments, not really expecting a laugh in return; no, they were more lame thank-you's than anything else. It had been 5 minutes since the last exchange and, yes, like clockwork, he could see Moody draw breath for another round.

"You know, with all the Galleons Malfoy has, one would think he would spend some money on the 'decor'," Moody groused quietly to him as they made their cautious way down yet another corridor, his 'Mad Eye' surveying the area around them. "This 'dank-wet-mouldy-mess' look is getting right old."

Wand drawn, Shacklebolt rolled his eyes for what had to be the thousandth time in the last two hours; at this rate he was going to wear all the shine off of them. "Moody," he whispered with more patience than the man deserved, "it's a dungeon. It's supposed to be horrid and wet and mouldy and--did you hear that?"

Moody slowly crept up to the next bend and peeked around the corner. Straightening, he turned back, giving a soft snort of disgust. "It's that rat again. Looks like the same one we've been running across for the last few hours."

"Hmm. Are you sure?" Shacklebolt asked sceptically.

Moody shrugged indifferently. "As much as I can be without really noticing. It has a funny cowlick in the fur on its back near the neck, like water down a drain. Wasn't paying all that much attention other than seeing it wasn't a person."

Curious now, Shacklebolt asked, "What's it doing this time?"

"Walking towards us."

"Not away?" Moody tilted his head to Shacklebolt's question. He continued, "I mean, when we first found it outside, we followed it thinking it might lead us to the entrance of this damned place, and eventually it did. Right to the door, if you want to call it that, or we might still be looking for a way in. And, now that I'm thinking about it, it's managed to stop us every time we've been about to run across someone who could raise the alarm. I'm not a big believer in coincidence."

Moody huffed, "Mph. You may have a point. Haven't seen any house-elves yet, have we?"

"No, but we've heard them and, when we come to one of those open places with the branching hallways, there's usually something there to tell us which one to take. Remember? There was that pile of stones at the entrance to one of the passages and we thought it was part of an old rock slide so we used the other one? What if it wasn't?"

"What? You think the little bugger dragged forty or so stones to the middle of the corridor and set them there as a warning so we wouldn't go down that particular passage?" When Shacklebolt just stared at him, Moody laughed silently, pointing at the walls. "You been eating some of this fungus?"

Shacklebolt shook his head in disgust, his earring glinting in the torchlight, and they moved on. Within moments they passed the rat in question, huddled stiffly against the wall to let them pass. Shacklebolt studied it as they went by, noting the swirl of hair on its back; Moody was right, it was fairly distinctive. The rat's eyes followed them as they passed. Suspicious, he tried looking at the pathetic creature's paws, but they were well tucked under its body; short of picking it up, he guessed he would never know. Given their orders from Dumbledore (and as it had done them no harm), he shrugged and moved on.

"Snape's don't look like this anymore," Moody growled quietly into the silence a few minutes later.

Shacklebolt looked around. "Yeah, I remember them before he took over, when Septimius was six doors down from Flitwick, on Wednesdays and Fridays, that is. The castle kept moving the Hufflepuffs' and Ravenclaws' classroom over by McGonagall's." He eyed the orange fungus growing in the cracks. "Didn't much get down there, being in the Tower and all, but they did look like this, didn't they?"

Moody's lip curled. "And they always smelled like rotten mud--I hated the passages to our common room. At least when Snape cleaned them up, the Slytherins didn't have to endure the taunts about smelling like dirty snakes."

"Neat man, our Snape; anal, one might say. He probably has all the old Hogwarts's moulds and fungus and other creepies in jars somewhere in his storerooms for his potions."

Moody chuckled. "Now that's Snape."

"Harry's been good for--"

"Crucio!"

Shacklebolt went rigid with the pain coursing through him, the scream coming out short seconds behind the shouted curse.

Moody whirled around and blindly fired a spell to break the curse coming from behind them. Shacklebolt fell to his knees, his muscles still clenched with phantom pain as he helplessly watched Moody duelling with Avery, alone. He gritted his teeth, trying to rise, but fell back. Moody wove and dodged the hexes thrown at him while blocking as many as he could of those aimed at Shacklebolt. Finally getting in place, Moody began to end it in earnest, managing to wing his old enemy with a fire curse, catching his sleeve aflame. With a pained shout, Avery cast a hasty dousing spell, extinguishing most of the flames but leaving the cloth smouldering. Snarling, he slid quickly away down a side corridor.

Moody started to follow, but stopped at Shacklebolt's gasped, "No, Moody! We were told to leave him be." Stopping in his tracks, Moody made a noise of disgust and, making sure Avery was at least out of sight, returned to his fallen comrade's side.

"You all right?" he asked, his magical eye tracking all over the hallway.

Shacklebolt sighed, wincing. "I will be. I've just been hit with one too many of the damned things over the years; makes my legs like pudding for a while."

Moody tugged urgently on his sleeve, anxious to get moving. "Can you walk now?"

Laughing weakly, Shacklebolt replied, "Guess I'm going to have to. Can't exactly sit in the middle of the Malfoy dungeons, now can I? Might piss someone off."

"Might, at that. C'mon, you can loll about the infirmary when we get back to Hogwarts." Putting his hands under Shacklebolt's arms, he helped him to stand. Wobbling a few seconds, Shacklebolt tried one step, then another, and in a few more was steady enough for them to keep hunting. Gods it hurt.

Limping along, his muscles sore, Shacklebolt commented quietly, "I hate that curse. Turns my brains into mush, too. The only thing keeping me moving right now is the thought that if I don't, you'll start planning for both of us. And that's scarier than--than--Voldemort."

Moody fixed him with his good eye. "Now none of that. I'll have you know--"

"Crucio!"

With a, "Bloody hell," Shacklebolt felt the curse run through him like wildfire. Burning, it twisted his insides into molten metal, and he prayed Moody would either hurry, or he would die; whichever came first would be nice indeed. Seconds later he fell; since he found himself on the floor, still breathing, he assumed it was the former rather than the latter.

Shacklebolt was barely aware of Moody dodging a second curse coming at him out of nowhere, but saw him sight on the last flash and guessing the rest, Moody shot off a "Finite Incantatum." With some shock, he saw Avery take shape as a Disillusionment spell ended. Avery? Or not? The second curse had been different, weaker than the first. Maybe Avery was tired?

"Dirty bugger, at least you're consistent," Moody mumbled as he levelled his wand, firing off a Trip Jinx that Avery easily dodged. Wincing at his inaccuracy, he called out, "Avery! I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Now, let's end what we started a few minutes ago! How's the arm?"

Shacklebolt tried to stand and managed to get to his hands and knees.

Firing a hex at Moody, Avery moved to the side avoiding another spell sent his way that exploded behind him sending flying stone in its wake. "Mad Eye, I see you're finally losing what little was left of your mind. I don't know what you're talking about, but if you think you're seeing two of me, then that can only be to the good."

Kneeling upright was an effort, but he managed it. "You know, I'm getting really tired of this," Shacklebolt said, a Blasting Curse flying off his wand at Avery, who side-stepping it, got hit with a simultaneous Conjunctivitis Curse from Moody.

Blinking his streaming eyes, Avery feinted and, barely ducking another curse from Moody, shouted "Incendio!" at Shacklebolt, catching him in the chest. Feeling exceedingly foolish and falling back, he could feel the flame eating into him and it took every ounce of will not to frantically bat at it with his hands. His training had some uses after all and the little jingle learned tripped through his mind: 'To touch it is to spread it.' Nonetheless, in an agony second only to the Cruciatus Curse, Shacklebolt again wished for a speedy release.

However, as he phased in and out of consciousness, he realised the gods must have some further use for him as Moody instantly used an extinguishing spell; he cried out at the surcease of the burning. In the background he could vaguely hear Avery casting the spell to clear his eyes. Through his lashes, Shacklebolt watched Moody stand with that 'NOW, I'm really going to kill you' look that always scared the pants off of him, both eyes fixed fiercely on his adversary. Avery's eyes widened at the sight and he started moving backwards from whence he came. Stepping in front of Shacklebolt, Moody began to let loose a volley of spells that soon had the air smoking and crackling with magic.

Closing his eyes, Shacklebolt tracked the battle aurally. Judging by the grunts from both men, they were blanketing the area with curses and hexes rather than aiming specific spells. The occasional yelp told him when Avery had been marked, the less frequent growls from Moody indicated he'd not lost his skills in knowing where something was going to land--and not being there. He could hear Avery's wheezing fading as he moved away from them, saying, "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have an antidote to take, so I shall bid you a fond adieu--" Shacklebolt turned his head and looked at him. Avery was almost to the bend in the hallway; Moody was standing his ground in front of him. As he disappeared, Shacklebolt could hear him call, "Until the next time, Mad Eye," and he was gone.

Chest heaving, Moody lowered his wand and, casting one last look around the smoky chamber, dropped to the floor to kneel by Shacklebolt, who complained weakly, "Shit, I really hate this. We need to teach the bastard some new curses; his range is rather limited."

Chuckling, Moody pulled aside his scorched robes, ignoring the hiss of pain Kingsley couldn't stifle as the stiff fabric pulled at the wounds, and dispassionately examined the burns. "Lucky sod--he only caught the skin." Moody retrieved a green bottle out of a pouch at his belt and with a practised thumb, popped the seal. Bending over, he scanned the skin with his magical eye, quickly ascertaining the areas with the most damage. He wet his fingers with the pungent potion and gently began to daub the burns, saying, "Snape's finest Panacea Potion; I pinched it off his shelves before we left. Only the best for you, Kingsley."

Wrinkling his nose against the stench of burnt cabbage warring with the sickening odor of roasted Shacklebolt, he muttered, "Faugh! I hope it works better than it smells." Within seconds the burning eased to be replaced by a blessed numbness. Clearing his throat, he said to Moody as conversationally as he could manage, "The first Crucio was much stronger than the second. I'm thinking one of those two Avery's wasn't Avery, if that makes any sense."

Moody nodded. "Yeah, I reckoned as much about half-way through the second fight. The first Avery's spells were a little too controlled for him; he tends to waste magic rather than direct it. The second Avery just 'felt' more like Avery, what with the wheezing and all. I'm guessing the first Avery was probably Lucius." He studied his handiwork, saying, "There, that's got the worst of it, and I still have some in reserve for the auld sod."

Shacklebolt nodded in agreement. Feeling the last of the pain disappear, he said, "Ah, that's much better. I feel almost human and less like the main course at a barbeque." Shacklebolt smiled at Moody's chuckles. With a few more minutes, the potion had done its work and, looking down at his chest, Shacklebolt could see the areas once charred and bleeding were now pink and healthy with little to no scarring. Pink? He glared at Moody. "Hey! You didn't tell me Snape's potion would turn bits of me white!"

Moody snorted in derision but didn't comment. When Shacklebolt blinked at him, he asked, "Feeling better?"

Clearing his throat, Shacklebolt croaked, "I suppose so, for someone who just crashed and burned."

"There's the spirit. Now let's get you up," Moody said, his voice straining as he lifted Shacklebolt to a sitting position.

Swaying with dizziness, Shacklebolt struggled to his feet. He irritably brushed Moody's hand away when as he reached over to steady him. "I have to do this alone or I'll never get moving." He took a couple of unsteady steps and then, turning around, said with a touch of irony, "What? You get hit with a Confundus or something? Shake a stump; we have two other idiots to rescue, remember?"

Moody just shook his head, catching up to his friend. "All right then. Wands out--Constant Vigilance."

"Arggghhh!!"

3:10 pm

Remus' pride in levitating Severus, measured by his success in not running the raving man into any walls, soon ended when he crashed him into a stone door frame. Fumbling and cursing, he lost the spell, barely catching him before he became one with the floor. He knelt next to the fallen man, checking to make sure he hadn't harmed him further. His sigh of relief was short lived when he started paying attention to Severus' ramblings.

"Bethany says he's alive, but he's not. Harry was here, but he's not. Albus said he'd keep him safe, but he's not--"

Remus brushed Snape's hair off his face. "Hey, that's a lot of 'not's' there, Severus. You need to keep sight of the good things. Harry's alive and waiting for you." When Severus shook his head in negation of his words, Remus lost patience, crying, "C'mon, old man! Damn it! Snap out of it." Remus wanted to slap him, shake him, anything to stop this set-back. What the hell had Avery cast?

Desperately sensing their time slipping away, a determined Remus stood, preparing to levitate Severus again. Walls or no, they had to get out. About to utter the spell, he heard a noise down the hall from where they'd come. His heart pounding, he turned to face this new threat, Lucius more likely than not, and, the metaphorical gloves coming off, he decided to make the bastard pay for what he'd done. Stalking silently down the hall, he saw the shadow on the wall and stopped. The moment he saw the cloak, he steadied his wand, shouting, "Crucio!"

Shacklebolt fell to the ground, curled into a tight ball, screaming again. At the same time Moody raised his wand to hex him, Remus saw his error, and with a gasp of horror, lifted his wand arm, breaking the curse. "Merlin's beard! Next time warn a fellow!" Remus exclaimed, rushing over to help Moody get Shacklebolt off his back.

"Next time I'll remember to bring the fife and drum corps," Moody growled, slapping Remus on the arm. "Good to see you, though."

"Good to be seen. About bloody time you two got here." Remus said dryly, clapping Moody's shoulder.

Still sitting on the floor, Remus could hear Shacklebolt muttering, "What is it with you people? Kingsley's minding his own business--'Crucio!' Kingsley's staggering down the hallway--'Crucio!' Kingsley's just trying to rescue two idiots--'Crucio!'" Lifting his head to the ceiling, he yelled, "Don't you arseholes know any other fucking spells?"

Confused, Remus mumbled, "Did I miss something here?"

"How about 'Enervate'?" Moody asked reasonably as he cast the charm.

Shacklebolt shook his head like a dog shedding water and without too much assistance from Remus and Moody, stood swaying. "Right. That's a good one; now I know you have at least two in your repertoire."

Rolling both his eyes, Moody said to Remus, "Long story--needs a few shot glasses to tell it proper. He turned to look at Severus still on the floor. "How's the auld sod?"

Remus sighed heavily. "Not good, I'm afraid. Avery did something to him, a curse of some kind, but he needs Poppy as soon as we can get him there."

Effortlessly, Moody levitated Severus up off the ground. "Here, Kingsley. Look sharp and hold him while I see what I can do."

Shacklebolt hobbled over to them and held the spell while Moody spelled Severus' robes aside. Remus, usually a practical person, looked on with mixed feelings. While he was relieved Moody and Shacklebolt were here, he felt guilty they needed to be present in the first place, but he was troubled by a touch of unwarranted resentment that someone had felt he wasn't up to the job of getting them out of their predicament, which was just stupid. He tried to dismiss the thoughts as the ramblings of a werewolf pushed a little too close to his limits. He should relax and just go home.

"Hmmm. Nasty. Looks like a Desparo Curse; beautifully set, too. Dumbledore'll know how to break it. I see Avery hasn't lost his touch. Too bad he fights like a sissy," Moody mumbled as he examined Severus. Observing the knife still standing in Snape's shoulder, he muttered, "That's going to be a bitch to get out." Straightening, he looked at Remus, both eyes fixed on him with understanding. "Not much I can do that you haven't already, Wolf," he commented, dabbing some of the potion on the opened wounds. "Well done of you to get him this far, seeing how you're hurt as well." He eyed the scorch marks on Remus' cloak. "Who'd you run into? Avery?"

Somewhat mollified by Moody's observations, Remus replied, "And Draco. Severus was amazing--I'd forgot what he can do with that staff of his. I'm afraid I wasn't much help."

Moody stared at him. "Snape fought?" He swept his hand over his still form. "Like this?"

"Well, not exactly--"

Snape interrupted him with an anguished cry. His words ran incoherently together but his message was clear--Harry was dead and he was mourning. Moody did the kindest thing he knew, he cast a silencing spell, saying, "Harry's fine, Severus. Went shopping this morning at Diagon Alley. He's safe at Hogwarts now, waiting for you." He leaned over and whispered softly in his ear, "C'mon, you auld sod; don't let them win. Let's get you home and wed."

Looking up at Shacklebolt and Remus, an indescribable sadness in his face, Moody said, "He's going to need more than Poppy, you know."

"Yeah, I figured that. I'll tell you what happened later when we talk to Albus. It's a long tale and I only want to do it once," Remus replied.

Nodding in agreement, Moody spelled Severus' robes closed, and transferred the levitation charm from Shacklebolt to his own control. Making sure all was secure, the four of them made their way down the corridor.

Shacklebolt planned as they walked. "When we get to the end of the wards, there will probably be an alarm; we won't have much time. Am I the only one who thinks we should do this in at least two stages so we can trade off who Apparates Snape?"

Moody thought about it a moment. "Snape needs to get to Hogwarts as soon as we can get him there. Apparating here wasn't too bad--a bit long, but I think have enough in me to get him all the way to the wards at Hogwarts if you can take over the transport to the castle. You and Remus can Apparate in tandem to save your strength. Dumbledore knows we're coming and as sure as the sun'll rise tomorrow, there'll be someone waiting for us."

Shacklebolt pursed his lips, thinking. "That's doable, if you agree, Remus."

"Even splinching myself sounds good right now as long as it's on the way home," Remus replied on a sigh. "You're the ones who will have to do most of the work. I'll follow your lead." He drew breath to speak when he felt the lifting of the Anti-Apparation wards. "Well, I'll be damned, we were really close."

Moody said nothing, but with both men's help, he changed the levitation spell and, with many grunts and groans, they got Severus settled over his shoulder. Sweating lightly, he calmly said, "See you on the other side," and with a loud bang, he was gone.

"You going to be all right for this?" Kingsley asked Remus over the keening of the intruder alarm. "I'm sorry--we didn't see to your hurts at all."

"I think so; Avery wasn't all that interested in me, thank the gods. It doesn't much matter in any event as long as we get out of here. Oh, and in case I don't get to hear the tale, I'm sorry I caught you with that curse. It was rather--unforgivable--of me."

With Kingsley's bark of laughter, he and Remus clasped forearms and, in unison, spoke the spell to carry them all the way to Hogwarts. As Remus stumbled on arrival, dizzy, he remembered why he hated 'jumping' in tandem, but was grateful for Shacklebolt's steadying hand. As he assessed his condition, all the resentment he'd felt before disappeared in the realization that he would never have been able to make the Apparation alone with Severus. This had been safer for them both.

Looking around him, finally oriented, he saw Kingsley already taking the unconscious Potions master from Moody. Moody swayed a bit when relieved of his burden, but, with a few moments to gather himself, he set off at a bruising pace that Kingsley and Remus were hard-pressed to match. Soon Remus was lagging, but said nothing; it was far more important they get Severus to the infirmary. He could wait.

Coming towards them as they neared the castle was a witch, robes billowing in the light breeze, McGonagall from the looks of it. Closing on them, she called out, "The headmaster sent me to meet you. He wants me to Transfigure both Severus and Remus to make it easier to get them to the castle."

"Bloody good idea," Moody muttered, stopping to let her close the distance. Shacklebolt seconded the sentiment, his strength obviously flagging with the spell he maintained. Minerva joined them shortly and with little fuss, Transfigured the Potions master into a mangy-looking black cat. Her eyes widened a bit at his form, but she said nothing as she effortlessly floated him over to Moody, who cradled him securely in his arms.

"Right then. I'll just be off to the castle," he said, striding off at a good clip. McGonagall turned an appraising eye on Remus, who had just caught up to them. Looking over Shacklebolt, she muttered, "Something small that I can carry." With a wave of her wand, Remus became a small wolf puppy. She bent over and picked him up, holding him fast, trying to avoid his wagging tail and slurping tongue. "Bad puppy," she scolded when he licked her face.

Shacklebolt barely hid his smile, storing away the humourous memory of McGonagall getting a wet face full of enthusiastic Lupin. This was definitely a keeper. Setting a good steady pace, they went on to the castle, Remus wagging his tail behind them.

TBC