As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
"I'm volunteering to go," Moody offered at once.
"Wait a moment!" Bill Weasley interrupted. "How does he know...?" He shoved his face in front of Snape's, absently noting the older wizard was faintly shivering. "How do you know it ends below Stonehenge?"
"The henge," the slurring was even more pronounced now, the wavering voice barely a whisper, and the audience had to strain to hear him. "...has its own magical signature. I felt it. I knew it for we had visited it earlier." Sweat was beaded on the pale face as he started to shake noticeably and without any ability to control it.
Dumbledore frowned. The overdosing of Veritaserum was beginning to display its effects. Soon the Potions Master would be convulsing and choking and only unconsciousness would give any respite. "Enough. Severus, try to relax."
Snape moaned but it was probably not the response he'd intended.
Someone growled a quiet oath. It was Arthur Weasley who went to summon Poppy Pomfrey. He had no desire to watch the other man's suffering and it pained him that Alastor Moody, the others, even his own son Bill, felt differently.
Molly was indeed ensconced in a chair at the kitchen table, reading quietly. She looked up at his entrance, curiosity and concern writ in her compassionate face.
"They gave him -- Snape -- too much of the Veritaserum," He informed her without waiting to be asked. He didn't wait to see her horrified expression but reached for the floo powder and threw a small handful into the large kitchen fireplace, calling out the Mediwitch's name, and sticking his head in the green flame.
A moment later the woman herself appeared before him, kneeling in front of the fireplace in her personal rooms, a book clutched in one hand. "Arthur?"
"We've got a bit of a problem here," the Ministry man said disappointedly. "Veritaserum overdose."
"Heavens! Well give me a few moments, I'll have to collect a some things from the hospital wing." She stood back up and Arthur's head disappeared from her fireplace.
A tribute to the mediwitch's ability to hurry, she found herself emerging from the kitchen fireplace at number twelve Grimmauld Place only fifteen minutes later. The kitchen was full of grim faced Order members who watched her bustle out on her way to Snape's first floor room. Upstairs, she found the room quiet, dim as the afternoon sunlight waned, and all but abandoned except for the patient and Albus Dumbledore sitting a silent vigil beside him.
"Lumos," she incanted softly as she entered the room. "How is he Albus?"
"Unconscious, Poppy."
"How much did he have?" she began setting out a series of many colored potions vials on the bedside table.
"Six drops."
Poppy only sighed and reached for the first of the potions she would have to dispense. She then raised her wand over her patient and incanted a firm, "Ennervate."
It was as if there was a moment of indecision. Then a long sigh deflated his lungs and Snape's eyes slowly opened, though it seemed he was not aware of it.
Albus, meanwhile, conjured some pillows which he helped Poppy stuff behind Snape's head and back so that he was almost sitting up. The Potions Master said not a word when the mediwitch held the first vial to his lips. He drank and shuddered. Then downed the next two of whatever she gave him before the spark of awareness lit his eyes.
"No more," he grumbled turning his head away.
"For now. But if any of the symptoms of overdose appear you will take more."
"I suppose," Snape muttered back and sensing the tremor in his arms grit his teeth and stiffened himself against the unwanted shudders.
"Right." The mediwitch was clearly unconvinced of his veracity. "I will leave a few things with Molly." She turned to Dumbledore then. "No more foolishness."
"We'll do our best, Poppy." The Headmaster had the sense to give her a contrite look before escorting her back downstairs. She flooed back to Hogwarts, calling to Minerva. She couldn't get back to either the infirmary or her own rooms as there would be no one there to answer the call. Thankfully, McGonagall was about and Poppy got back with very little fuss.
After her exit, the meeting in the kitchen resumed.
"Well then, when can we go?" Shacklebolt asked the question on everyone's minds. "And just what do we think we can do?"
In silence every face turned to Albus Dumbledore seated once more at the head of the table. He scanned their expressions, ranging from hope to hopeful determination to Alastor Moody's frustrated fury.
"That is a very good question, Kingsley. What indeed. Voldemort has barricaded himself behind this impenetrable shield at Stonehenge for a purpose no one can fathom. We have learned nothing but that whatever he is doing takes all his attention. The shield has not wavered since it went up and all we -- and the Ministry -- can do is sit and watch. Severus informs us that Malfoy Manor is connected to an underground chamber beneath Stonehenge. There is no other alternative; we must send someone in to try to observe."
"Observe?!" Moody shouted. "Observe, nothing! It's time we took the initiative and attacked those blighters!"
"What happened to constant vigilance, Mad-Eye?" Emmeline shot back with a wry but amused grimace on her finely chiseled face. "If this passageway is known it will be warded. If it is not known, we need to use it first to find out if we even can attack." She turned to face to regard Dumbledore. "Or perhaps have the shield removed so that we and the Aurors and Hit Wizards can attack." A questioning eyebrow arched genteelly.
"I will ask Severus to return to Voldemort."
Molly gasped. "What good will that do?"
"It might get us information again," Shacklebolt answered. But he was frowning. "But I don't think Snape would survive long enough to do any good."
"Voldemort knows his lack of response has not been voluntary. I must hope that he accepts Severus." Dumbledore's voice lacked conviction, but he could not speak his reticence any plainer.
"How would he explain himself?" Lupin asked.
"A close approximation of the truth should suffice." His gaze settled on the dark skinned wizard. "My boy, you know how much you can and cannot reveal to your fellow Aurors but we will need their help."
"Fighting Death Eaters is our job, Albus. I'll take care of it."
"What about Snape? You can't let him go alone. We need others to know this route and perhaps report on his meeting up with his fellow Death Eaters." Moody tenaciously insisted, his fists balling up as if ready to pound the tabletop.
"I'll be the one who accompanies him," Shacklebolt replied.
"I'd like to as well," Remus' soft voice interjected.
"You've got lessons to give," Moody argued. "I'm a better choice."
"Albus--" Lupin was ready to argue.
"Kingsley will accompany Severus alone, but you are both welcome to take up positions of support."
Positions of support... Kingsley Shacklebolt quickly scanned the witches and wizards standing off to the side while Snape and Bill Weasley worked together to break through the wards that protected Malfoy Manor from uninvited entry. They'd been at it a good fifty minutes already, having started almost exactly at the site where Margaret Sellinger had disappeared. A sneak attack this could never be. But apparently intelligence and deduction were proving correct in the assessment that the place was devoid of residents. But people were becoming tense with the waiting, even if they did not show it outright. The senior Auror knew they had to be because he, himself, certainly was.
"Done!" Bill's shout came at last and everyone looked over at him. The pair was done in, both men pale and slicked with perspiration despite the coolness of the October day. Snape said nothing nor even looked at his companions. His gaze was directed towards the manor hidden beyond the tall hedges, but now stripped of its defenses.
Shacklebolt gave a curt nod and Snape gave his wand a sharp flick and twist, muttering a soft incantation. A wrought iron gate appeared and opened itself invitingly. The spy strode forward without waiting for anyone else. As he knew they would, he heard them scramble to follow and he led them to the front doors which also opened at his command.
A small, wizened house-elf popped into the foyer, his face a mixture of curiosity, fear, and concern. "Master and Mistress are not home!" he squeaked, great big eyes darting from one to another of the unannounced visitors. They settled at last on the one person known to them. "Master Severus?"
"Return to the kitchens. All of you." Snape commanded imperiously.
"Yes sir!" The elf snapped and disappeared with a pop.
"Touch nothing." Snape warned his companions. "Much of it bites." He strode through the marble tiled foyer as it narrowed into a long hall lined with an occasional door. He stopped at one and opened it with a quiet Alohomora before slipping inside. At once the many candelabras lit up revealing an immense library. The room was curved in a gentle ellipse and lined all the way around with various tomes of many ages and wear. The room itself was two stories high and a balcony curved against the wall halfway up with an opening for the narrow spiraling stairs that connected the two levels. There was a fireplace at one wall, and comfortable chairs and side tables were arranged on a huge Persian rug that decorated the central area. Sunlight streamed in through stained glass in the ceiling.
Snape ignored all of it, moving directly to the fireplace. It was clean, completely bereft of any soot or burns. Apparently it was rarely, if ever, used. He dropped to his knees and leaned forward, resting both hands against the back of the wall, precisely at its center. He gave a short sharp push with his fingertips.
The back wall was gone. In its place the dark unknown. From this newly revealed passageway wafted the scent of undisturbed mustiness and stale air.
"It has been almost thirty years since this was opened, I think." Snape spoke to himself, either forgetting or uncaring that he had companions.
"After you then," Shacklebolt prodded.
"Lumos, Snape's wand tip took on the customary glow.