Behind Emerald Eyes

"Back in Hell

The sound of a lonely owl woke him from his slumber. It was still dark outside and the moon was hung low in the horizon. He pushed the covers from his thin body and stood shakily. Long, dark, unkempt hair hung to his shoulders and fell in his vision. He briskly pushed it away and began his painful trek to the door and down the hall.

He had not been merciful last night. The after effects of the Cruciatus Curse still plagued his broken body; his head was throbbing painfully and his skin was stinging relentlessly. His foot was still hurting from that godforsaken Manticore that had struck him with its tail. He had no idea how He managed to control it. But He knew everyone was afraid of it that was why he kept it by his side at all times.

How he wished, he could stab the Manticore with its own tail; the poison would be quick and fatal. Luckily, he was wearing thick dragon hide boots the night before so the sting couldn't pierce all the way down. Only a slight drop of the poison had been released under his skin that was why he was limping now.

His house was an old family manor, with dark rooms and little light. Portraits hung on each wall of his ancestors. Each sneered at him as he passed, some with hooked noses and dark eyes and curtains of dark greasy hair. He glared at them hatefully before continuing on. The kitchen was situated in the bottom of the house with stone walls and shelves of bottled ingredients.

The table was long and chipped, with only one chair at the end of it. He walked to the stove and placed a pot over the fire, waiting for the water to boil. He didn't think he was up to performing magic at the moment; just a simple heating charm could back fire and scorch his face. He sat down on the high backed wooden chair and placed his face in his hands. There he remained for a good fifteen minutes until the water began to bubble.

Once he had a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of him, he stared at the wavering stream of hot air rising from the boiling liquid. He sat entranced by the weaving grey strands until they vanished leaving the tea cold and tasteless. He pushed it away from him and once more placed a hand over his dark, hollow eyes.

Visions of the night before flashed across his mind causing bile to rise in his throat. There had been another victim last night. A young girl, no older than the students he taught, was brutally tortured in front of them. Her screams were ringing through his ears as he watched her pitifully writhing on the ground. And they all had been laughing. Behind their white masks and under their thick hoods. The sound of their disgusting laughter mixed with the girls screams made him want to kill them all.

But that was out of the question.

After Voldemort had been killed, he thought he would be free from the Dark Lord's fiery gaze and torturous meetings. And he had been for a few years. Those years had been spent in a white haze; he could not believe he had been released from that dark prison he condemned himself to. But then it called him. The mark on his arm had burned fiercely and he thought he would die. He even briefly considered ending his life at that exact moment when the Dark Mark turned black.

But that old fool's last promise was still in place. When he turned to Albus Dumbledore in the first war, nearly twenty-two years ago, he had pleaded with the old man that he could change and that turning to the Dark had been the worst mistake he had ever made. And to his greatest shock, the headmaster had just looked at him with eyes of understanding and nodded slowly.

But instead of a full switch to the light, he had been forced to spy on the creatures he despised most. On one side, he was a loyal Death Eater, doing the Dark Lord's bidding. And on the other, he was a traitor and scum of the earth. Then there was that place in the middle. The one where he was a Death Eater turned spy, an unknown hero in a sense and he was respected there. People understood what he was doing and to what cost he was doing it.

Albus Dumbledore had said he was to always remain on the side of the light and help those who needed it. His promise to Dumbledore was that he would never again return to Voldemort and he would always be there to relay information that would help the Light side win that war.

And because of that promise, he was forced to be a spy to the dark, risking his life every time he showed his face to the masked Death Eaters. And he would continue to do so because Albus Dumbledore was the first person to forgive him and help him on his way for retribution.

Severus Snape's life had been far from happy. He had been abused as a child by his father. He thought going to Hogwarts would be better, that he would finally be accepted. But his time there had been ruined as well. Just because he had been sorted into Slytherin, the other students shunned him and called him names. He kept his head high; pretending that he didn't hear what was said. But their words had struck hard, leaving emotional scars. For all his time at Hogwarts, he had to fend for himself. He had to ignore the threats and hurtful teasing and try to be happy with what he had.

Then in the holidays, his father would abuse him and strike with more than words. His mother did not dare to try to stop him; she had tried once before and it resulted in her being brutally incapacitated. So Severus had to struggle through his father's fury and look for a brighter side. A side that didn't seem to exist.

That was why he had turned to Voldemort. His father was continually telling him to join the right side, a side which Severus considered bad. But due to discrimination at Hogwarts and abuse at his home, he thought being a Death Eater would give him power over those who taunted him. He believed that he would be looked up to and respected when he became a servant to the dark. How wrong he had been.

That was when he had turned to Dumbledore. Nearly twenty-two years ago, Severus heard word that Voldemort was going after Lily and James Potter and their small son. He went against the rules set against him being a Death Eater and ignored the risks to his own life. He had went to Dumbledore and told him everything. That was the day when he had become a spy and member of the Order of the Phoenix. Lily and James had gone into hiding, hoping the Dark Lord would not find them.

But he did, and Severus had been torn between two emotions when news reached his ears. He had been sad and angered that they had been killed after he risked everything to save them. But he was also slightly thankful. Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord and released him from his dark prison. But that only proved too good to be true.

The Dark Lord had risen thirteen years later, slightly stripped of his power, but very much alive. Severus had ignored the Dark Mark that night and immediately informed Dumbledore of its burning. From that day on, he was forced to relive his memories of the first war. He suffered through the tortures and murders performed in front of his eyes.

Then came the day when the Dark Lord fell. The same boy, who had defeated him fifteen years previously, had taken his tainted soul in a battle written in history. But Albus Dumbledore had also been taken in that final war. His mentor, his saviour, was dead. The old man he had come to call a surrogate father, had been killed by the same monster that haunted his dreams.

So he had been released from his cage at the greatest price imaginable and the glory of being free only lasted for three years. Because his Dark Mark had burned black and summoned him to the place where his nightmares were realised.

Back in the kitchen, Severus Snape struck out at the table, shattering the mug into thousands of pieces. His anger was boiling inside him, running through his veins in a savage fury. His once blank eyes were dancing with renewed rage and his oily hair was frizzing with magical energy. How he hated the world he was condemned to. How he wished he would be set free from the binds containing him. How he wished he could just die.

In Snape Manor, the last remaining heir sat back down at the long wooden table. His hair was once more long and lank, and his eyes were hollow and blank. With one shaking hand, he brushed away the single tear of misery escaping his expressionless eyes.

oOo

The Order meeting was beginning in half an hour. Harry was staring straight into the forest at the back of the Burrow, his eyes full of pain. He would be returning to Grimmauld Place, a house full of memories and hard times. He remembered the summer before his sixth year, and the many weeks of hard training, he had gone through in that old house. He could remember the many Order meetings conducted in the basement kitchen, and the many times Harry and his friends had tried to listen in.

He sighed wistfully, staring at the setting sun. From the tree line, along the dirt path trodden under the bushes, a tall form appeared. Harry smiled as Luna Lovegood began her slow trek across the expanse of lawn, her blond hair catching the last remaining light.

"Hello, Harry," she greeted when she finally reached the back porch. "Hey, Luna." Harry said lightly, smiling down at her. Her bright blue eyes sparkled against her pale skin as she drew closer to the steps.

"Are you going to the Order meeting as well?" she asked softly and in a way that she already knew the answer. Harry nodded slowly, nerves once more growing in the pit of his stomach. She smiled at him and entered the house behind him. He could hear Ginny welcoming her and Ron's nervous hello.

Soon it was quarter to six and the whole company was standing in the Weasley's kitchen, wands aloft and faces set. Harry's stomach was flipping in anticipation and his hands were sweaty as he gripped his wand.

"Just Apparate into the alley way beside number eleven, that way, no muggles will be able to see us," said Mrs Weasley as soon as Ron had re-entered the kitchen after finding his wand stashed upstairs in the bathroom. "I will go first, than Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Luna, Fred, George and last will be Remus." She said before disappearing with a crack. Soon Ron and Hermione were gone, and Harry pointed his wand to himself and took a deep breath. A second later, he was gone.

oOo

The smell of rotten cabbage and mouldy paper was what greeted him when he appeared in a dark alley. There were figures around him, half hidden in darkness. There were five more cracks before the group of witches and wizards made their silent way from the alley and into a damp, lightless street. The houses were boarded, and stood tall and dark against the cloudy sky. Harry caught sight of a slanted signpost reading Grimmauld Place across the road in an overgrown courtyard.

He followed Ron and Hermione down the pavement a bit, before stopping before a crease between numbers eleven and thirteen. It took a moment while all of them thought of the hidden home, before the two old houses began to move as another formed in between them. A set of cracked stone steps led to a large, scratched door. As Harry slowly ascended the steps, he watched the serpent knocker glitter in the light from the moon. Ron reached towards the door and knocked three times.

The sound of many locks could be heard before the great door lurched open, revealing the heart shaped face of Nymphadora Tonks. She smiled when she recognized them, and moved back to allow them entrance. The Entrance Hall was still dark and dreary. An old troll's foot umbrella stand stood by a solid oak staircase, leading up to the floors above. Many heads of former house elves lined the peeling wall, all staring with glassy eyes.

Luckily, the portrait of the late Mrs Black had been removed, leaving a bare patch on the wall where her tapestry had hung. Harry looked to Tonks and spotted her eyes on him. He immediately noticed the cut running across her left eye, which she had tried to hide with a curtain of dark hair. She smiled at him slightly before leading them down to the kitchen.

There were already many people seated at the long, wooden table. Harry could Bill and Charlie Weasley, with their father, talking animatedly to Amelia Bones and Mundungus Fletcher, who looked half drunk. Elphias Doge was talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones, who both looked up when Harry entered. As the Weasley's filled in behind him, the room went silent. Harry was looking around nervously, wondering why everyone was looking at him. As he looked to the far side of the room, he spotted Minerva McGonagall watching him with a faint glitter in her eyes.

"Umm – hi?" Harry said, fully aware of the pounding of his heart. There were a few chuckles as Harry went to sit next to Charlie, but Remus took it before he had a chance. When he turned to find another spot, all of them were full. All except one. It was Dumbledore's spot, the one at the head of the table. Harry glanced at it, feelings of pain and anger welling inside him. Instead of sitting down in that nightmarish chair, he turned to the left and walked towards his old Transfiguration professor, feeling everyone's eyes on him as he went. With a quick wave of his wand, he conjured a simple high backed chair and sat down, briefly glancing at Ginny's worried gaze.

There was silence for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from the ticking of a distant grandfather clock. Just when Harry was about to say something, he heard the familiar sounds of the locks opening on the front door. Many people looked towards the staircase where footsteps were approaching. Harry was waiting for the person to appear, wondering who could be that late.

And who he saw almost caused him to die in shock. Severus Snape had just entered the kitchen, his greasy hair still covering his face and his blank eyes scanning the room. They soon found his own and Harry was sure he spotted shock in their black depths. Shock and…hope? Before he could ponder this further, the potions master had taken a seat in the far right side, his face half hidden in shadows.

"Well, now that we're all here, let the meeting begin." Mr Weasley said from beside the vacant head chair. There were murmurs of agreement and soon the meeting began. First to speak was Arthur, about the goings on in the Ministry and what actions they were taking.

"I have recently recruited nine new Aurors to our ranks and have sent word to Russia and France for anymore they can spare. I have two of them here, as they have proved beneficial to our cause. Please welcome Taylor Rainman and Antoine Gabrielle, our newest members." A young man stood on the right side of the room, along with a pale, black haired girl. There were polite nods in response, before they sat back down. Harry caught the man's dark eyes and seemed to see deep into his soul. And what he saw made his skin crawl. There was so much sadness in him; so much anger was just waiting inside to be freed. He had the mind of a mad man and Harry was determined to speak to Arthur when the meeting was over about the newest recruitments.

"Antoine Gabrielle will be our French informant. He will pass on any information from the French Ministry involving suspected Death Eaters or Dark Magic followers. The same goes for Taylor Rainman. She will be our Russian informant and pass on any of the same information. Also, she is part of one of the largest and purest Russian families, and has connections with many underground societies of witches and wizards and can easily relay information by any means.

"Also, we have had word that Jeremiah Jesston, the new Head of Magical Cooperation, has tried to sever ties to South African Communities without consenting me first. He said that Fudge would not want the British Ministry associating with such people. And he has also tried to reinforce old rules about Werewolf Legislation and half-blood privileges. A few others and myself have come together to try to rule him out of office, as I will not be able to do it on my own. With that said, Severus?"

Harry had been listening intently, having missed so many years of hearing the happenings in the Wizarding World. Snape's report was what he had been looking forward to most. He was itching to find out more about the so-called 'new dark lord'.

Severus Snape stood, placing his weight on his one good foot. Harry wondered what had happened to it before placing all his attention on the greasy haired man's vital words.

"There was another meeting last night. As always, he kept his face hidden with that damned hood and ordered his blasted Manticore around to try and scare us all half to death. There was a small attack on a muggle village and only one was killed. It was a young girl, around fifteen, and she was tortured before being put out of her misery. I have attended every meeting called so far and have heard nothing of any attacks to take place. But," and here he glanced at Harry, "there has been word of a specific target that the Dark Lord wishes to annihilate, someone he goes by as 'the taker'. I'm not sure who he is, but that may be because I am no longer trusted in the Inner Circle but they can't prove I'm a spy, so all is still fine. Perhaps Draco will be able to fill you in a little better." As Snape sat, another person stood, who had been sitting in the shadows behind Remus.

Harry hadn't even known that Draco Malfoy was in the room until Snape mentioned him. The blond haired Slytherin looked partly the same as the last time he saw him. He still had slick, white hair, flat against his pointed pale face. His piercing grey eyes struck through the room like ice and met with Harry's. In them, he saw pain and hopelessness, and Harry briefly felt proud of what Malfoy was doing for the Order.

"I have been able to gain the trust of the Dark Lord and even have some control over the Manticore. I am the Lord's second in command after Bellatrix –,"

"Lestrange is still alive?" Harry blurted suddenly. All eyes turned to him and he ignored them, staring angrily at Draco. The young man turned his head to face Harry, his eyes flickered with some unknown emotion, and he swiftly nodded.

"As I was saying, Bellatrix is still first in command after the Dark Lord. He always assigns her to lead the attacks and only allows her to hear his next plans. I have been able to hear some pieces of certain information, such as who the Dark Lord is after," Malfoy's eyes flickered to Harry, "And what he plans to do to him when he gets him."

"Have you found out why the Dark Lord wants Harry?" Ginny asked. Draco shook his head. "No, I can't seem to find any reason why he would want Potter. I mean, Voldemort had a reason for wanting Potter dead, but this fellow doesn't have any real reasons for murdering Potter. It just doesn't make sense!" Draco said, frowning disdainfully. Harry sighed softly from his seat.

"Does anyone need a reason for wanting to kill me?" he said trying to sound humorous, but all he got were worried stares. "I mean, I didn't find out until the end of my fifth year why Voldemort wanted to do me in, so what makes you think we will find out this guys intentions while we're all still alive?" Harry said, anger rising once more.

"All I need is a little more time so I can prove my loyalty, before he spills all his plans to me," Malfoy said defiantly.

"Yeah, what makes you think he will tell you that if you haven't even seen his face?" Harry answered just as boldly. The two were just staring at each other, grey verse green, before Arthur Weasley broke their staring war.

"Okay, well – you said you knew certain pieces of information? What would they be?"

"Oh – yes, the Dark Lord has told me he has some connections in the London Underground, who are able to put certain things into effect. I haven't been able to find out anymore about that except it has something to do with fresh snow, what ever that means." Malfoy said, sighing in frustration. Harry furrowed his brow at those words.

"Fresh snow? So, you don't have any other information about what's happening. Nothing at all?" Harry asked. Malfoy shook his head. "No. The Dark Lord contacted the connections last weeks and said the plan was to take action this week. Well, today actually. But we weren't able to find any leads, so we just passed it off as a fall-out plan," Draco said, watching as Harry continued staring at him. Suddenly, without warning, there was a sharp pang that ran across Harry's scar. He clasped it in shock more than pain. Everyone in the kitchen was staring at him; mouths open and fear in their eyes. Harry pulled his hand from his head and stared blankly at Ginny. Someone was very happy.

"What – was it – how - ?" Ron spluttered, incoherently. Harry was still too shocked to move. But then it all became too clear. Fresh Snow. Someone was happy. Getting Harry. London Underground.

Harry stood quickly, his body numb with sudden cold and panic. He stared at Ginny, her own eyes wide in fear. Harry breathed one word. "Dave!"

oOoOoOo

Hey everyone. I'm sorry it took so long to get this one out. My life has been so crazy lately and I can't find any time to write. Well, please review and tell me what you think. And I'm sorry I left you with a huge cliffhanger, but there were heaps of clues in this chapter about what's happening later on. And there is still heaps more to come in the next chapters, because this is where the story picks off!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Bye

DW