Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line
Part III : Crossing the Line
13 February 2023 (Continued)
From long habit, Saganth hesitated at the foot of the ramp, his flickering tongue testing the air around him for hidden dangers. There were few remaining, but in the days of his father, Horatio, may his way be paved in sunshine, the cold stone floors had proved lethal to some of his nesting rivals as it quickly drained a hatchling's heat. Although his master had warmed the floor, his sister still had an impossible time moving from place to place, even in the summer. Of course, the problem had disappeared when the master's mate had taken her as his very own; Saganth thought them a good match.
Giving a shimmy, Saganth chastised himself; such thoughts, while pleasant, were not going to help his master. A quick scan with both eyes and tongue told him the paths were clear; the master's mate had passed through at least a moon's width ago. He moved along the enchanted path circumventing the Round Place and passed through another portal to the Sleeping Place. Nearing the bed, he could hear Sleave singing a soft Sleeping Song to her master; she always took such good care of him.
Although he was not nearly as long or as thick as his sire, the bed's height rarely posed an obstacle to Saganth and normally he could just climb directly up the side. But tonight he hurt too much for such a feat and instead climbed up a small stool at the foot of the bed which his master sometimes used to reach the curtain rings when they got caught. Once his bruised section cleared the top, he hissed, Sssissster? Isss your Massster sssleeping yet?
Out of a flat-bottomed, bag-like warming pillow hanging on the side of the headboard, Sleave's tiny head poked out of a slit near the bottom corner to stare at him. Of courssse he isss, Brother. I have been sssinging my Sssleeping Sssong to him. Why doesss you asssk?
Saganth made his way over to her; he stretched and she extended until their snouts touched. Sssomething bad hasss happened to my Massster. He isss hurt and there isss blood and sssomething elssse I've never tasssted before, but it isss not good. We mussst wakesss my massster'sss mate. He will know what to do to helpsss my Massster.
You will needsss to wakesss him. He drank the Sssleeping Watersss. You know how hardsss he isss to wakesss when he drinksss it.
He isss not easssy to wakesss even when he doesss not take the Sssleeping Watersss, Saganth grumbled.
Sleave hissed in laughter. You ssspeaksss like a Blue Sssky. You knowsss what to do. I will try sssinging to him the Waking Sssong.
Saganth prepared to burrow under the covers, grousing as he went, What I wantsss to know isss how comesss you getsss all the easssy thingsss while I getsss all the hard thingsss. He will probably kick me again and my sssidesss are already ssso sssore...
His voice muffled the farther he went under until Sleave couldn't hear him anymore. She depended from her bag until she was right at Harry's ear. It wasn't really singing, but it wasn't speaking either, her words slurring one into the next making an almost humming noise. Wakesss-Up-Sssnakesss-Persssonsss--The-Day-Isss-Fine--The-Sssunsss-Warmsss-The-Ssstonesss--The-Grasssesss-Are-Moissst--It-Isss-Time-To-Ssslither-Through-The-Morning--
Harry twitched and rubbed at his ear when her long tongue flicked out, tickling the sensitive shell. She paused, eyeing the moving mound under the covers near Harry's feet. Judging the moment right, she pulled back into the bag quickly just as Harry sat bolt upright throwing the covers off the bed, Saganth in them, with a screamed, "What the fuck!" Panting, his eyes wild and staring, he conjured a light and pulled his foot up where he could see it. There on the Achilles tendon was a neat row of small bite marks. Raising his voice, his hands rubbing the stinging area, he called out, Sssaganth, may chiggersss infessst your nessst, thisss had better be important!
Saganth was really too far away for Harry to hear him, so while he made his way up the bed again, Sleave dropped out of the bag onto Harry's pillow and, scales extended, climbed rapidly up Harry's back to rest on his shoulder, her face near his ear. Ssso sssorry, Massster, to disssturbsss your ssslumber. Brother sssaysss that his Massster is hurt and needsss your helpsss.
Harry turned his head, drawing it back to look at her. What? Ssseverusss isss hurt? How? Where? He turned his head away and said loudly, Sssaganth, where in the Dead Grasssesss are you?
You doesss not have to ssshoutsss--I am right here, Massster'sss Mate, Saganth hissed quietly near Harry's hand.
Looking him over, Harry noticed the heavy contusions and swelling of the snake's hide halfway down his slender body. Placing his hands over the area, but not touching it, his quickly spoken spell cleared the bruising; Saganth hissed a snake sigh of relief. You were hurtsss, too, Sssaganth. What happened?
Saganth looked away from Harry. He was ashamed and fully expected to be punished. He lowered his head submissively and hissed, Thisss ssstupid one isss very sssorry he wasss not watching where he wasss going and the Massster ssstepped on him in The Officcce. The Massster fell on the floor and a big hollow ssstone fell on him ssspilling sssilver watersss on him. There isss blood on hisss head and the sssilver watersss all over hisss upper half tassstesss bad. Thisss sssnake thinksss the sssilver watersss isss hurting the Massster asss much asss the floor hitting hisss head.
Harry thought over Saganth's words trying to filter through his potion-fogged brain what the snake could possibly mean by his words. Finally, it dawned on him what Saganth might be talking about. Sssaganth, wasss the hollow ssstone black? Still not looking at him, Saganth bobbed his head up and down; Harry knew this was a yes. Look at me, Loyal One. It wasss a missstake, I know you did not do it on purpossse. With a start of surprise, Saganth swiveled his head over to look at Harry. Young One, did the sssilver watersss move, like wormsss trapped outssside their homesss?
Yesss.
"Shit! The Pensieve!" Harry gasped as he rolled out of the bed, Sleave wrapping her tail around his ear. Throwing on his dressing gown, he tore out of the bedchamber. As he pounded across the rotunda to the ramp to Severus' office, he kept muttering, "Damn, damn, damn!"
Sleave, her tail still hooked on his ear, manoeuvred until she was wrapped around his throat, tight enough to hold on and let him know she was still there, but not enough to choke him. In Parseltongue, he told her to get clear of him when they got there as the 'silver waters' would be deadly to her. She hissed her understanding and prepared to quickly move away.
Bursting into the office with a shouted spell, Harry rushed to where Severus lay unmoving on the floor halfway between the sideboard and the seating group. He knelt by him, assessing the situation, vaguely aware of Sleave slithering down his back. A wide pool of blood under his head, Severus' upper body was densely covered in Harry's memories, his face paler than the filaments layering it. Finding a clear spot on one of his temples, Harry placed shaking fingers there, quickly feeling his way around. The initial panic subsiding, he blew a heavy sigh of relief; Severus had not been seriously injured.
Sitting back on his heels, Harry mentally catalogued the damage. Superficial, the cut on the back of Severus' head had already stopped bleeding on its own; there were no signs of concussion, either. Although he thought Severus had merely had the breath knocked out of him, his laboured breathing might be caused by the nasty break in one of his ribs, which Harry assumed came from the Pensieve itself. The multiple contusions on his back and sternum, however, were minor. A simple spell healed the cut, others the bruising of bone and muscle, still more knit the rib. Severus would be fine with some rest.
With Severus at least healed physically, Harry knew the next order of business was to retrieve his memories and get them back into the Pensieve. Even knowing he probably couldn't afford to lose even one, he would gladly forsake them all if it was in Severus' best interests to do so. Righting the Pensieve and using his wand, Harry picked up the strands one by one, placing them back into the bowl, each seemingly intact; he felt a strong sense of relief he would not be missing them--assuming they were still viable, of course.
He was about to pick a large clump off of Severus' nose when he sensed it was active; Severus was already experiencing it. Harry paused, not knowing whether it would hurt a Legilimens or not to remove it prematurely. Seeing that it appeared to be stable and wasn't harming Severus for the moment, he decided to leave it where it was and finished retrieving as many of the others as he could find scattered across the floor.
While he'd been working on Severus, Saganth slid into the room. Sleave was there to greet him at the warm Fire Place and they rubbed noses, their tongues flicking out as much to taste each other as to smell the air around them.
Will my Massster be all rightsss, Sssissster? Saganth asked in a small hiss.
I thinksss ssso, Brother. My Massster knowsss what to do, she answered him softly.
Thisss one hopesss it isss ssso, he replied, downhearted.
Sleave hissed in sympathy and, spiralling herself snugly around his body as he coiled, she placed her head on top of his, purring in comfort, and they both settled down to wait.
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2013
This was Sanos magic like nothing he'd ever seen before. For one, he was following it with Harry; he was unsure whether this was because of his own Sanos abilities or his link through the memory--he suspected both. For another, Harry was not just using the Sanos magic, he was changing it, bending the rules as he went along to fit the situations as he found them. Which, as far as Severus could fathom, was a very good skill to have, for the woman they traversed was actively dying. And Harry was barely staying ahead of her.
When they'd first plunged in, Severus travelling right beside Harry, instead of the neat orderly pathways one normally found, they were tossed about in a maelstrom of blind chaos. With a rapid series of spells, felt more than heard, Harry soon had it under better control, slowing their progress like a well-applied set of brakes on a runaway wagon. However, that did nothing to dispel the disorder.
Severus had never been inside a Revenant before. Oh, he knew potions to help sustain one, even potions to make one, but that knowledge did not prepare him for the sheer devastation the loss of a mind caused within a living body. He'd always supposed it was more about a loss of intelligence, although he also knew that, over time, a Revenant slowly died as the brain lost even its ability to sustain life itself. Based on what he thought he was seeing, this woman should have 'died' naturally several weeks ago. Only through a complex network of spells was she even breathing. He could almost admire the someone whose genius sustained her balance like this, dead but still alive, if he hadn't also guessed who that someone had to be.
Stenman. The stink of his magic assailed them at every turn.
And while amazing, the network was inexorably failing as if it had reached the end of its expected life span, and given Stenman's previous research, it might very well have been planned for a specific time frame. One just long enough to grow the baby to the right gestational age so the child could live outside of its dying mother. Despite his scientific curiosity, his strong moral core rebelled at the thought of such callousness--on so many levels--it made his blood boil. He knew Harry was just as appalled by what they'd found. He could feel his angry frustration, but Harry was also professional enough to ignore it for the moment.
But why Harry?
There were other Healers, better versed in the Dark Arts, perfectly capable of maintaining the network for Stenman while he worked. However, given how dark arts practitioners scrambled for new knowledge to gain power, he could well understand why Stenman would want his techniques to remain secret.
Perhaps Stenman had discovered Harry's secret? As a Schematamagus, Harry could manipulate the Schema of any object within his immediate grasp; it was well within his abilities to replace Stenman's magical network with one of his own. If this were the case, Harry might have been chosen because his skills would leave Stenman free to concentrate on the delivery without having to reveal his own secrets.
However, Severus couldn't understand why Stenman had timed the network to fail before the baby's birth rather than after, assuming it did have a specific longevity. Surely it would have been much simpler to be done with it alone, with no witnesses. If she were of 'good family' a simple notation in the ancestral registry about a woman dying in childbirth with a private burial would never be questioned by the authorities; not a frequent occurrence, to be sure, but it did happen.
Unless... What if this was a trap for Harry. Bring him in as a healer, force him, either through his sympathies, or a binding contract to connect himself to her, and then kill her quickly, taking Harry with her. And Harry would never notice. His attention, and rightly so, would be tightly focused on the woman in front of him.
Convinced he was finally on the right track, Severus barely stopped himself from admiring the cunning needed to make such an insidious plan.
Putting the thought behind him, he turned his attention back to Harry; he suspected he would never again get such an unparalleled opportunity to see his spouse's abilities put to such a demanding test. Caught in a cascade of system failures, Harry zipped around, unerringly anticipating what the next one would be, only to arrive seconds before it collapsed. He changed the Schema of one area enough to negate the previous spells to buy him some time, in another he would take something already damaged and make it into what he needed to bolster the area. In essence, Harry was using pieces of the woman not needed to sustain her baby for this short time, to repair those systems required for the child's continued health. Watching him work, Severus realised that Harry's 'hop-scotched leaps of logic', as he'd often called them, were actually an asset here as the seemingly random jumps from one area to another began to form a complex pattern of its own.
Enthralled, Severus was quite sure Harry was totally unaware of it.
Harry combined his Schematamagus abilities with his Sanos magic to take any two or more Schema and twist them into something else using the Sanos, thereby changing their original purpose to anything he needed. Severus knew that, even as a Schematamagus, Harry should not be able to manipulate Schema in this manner and yet, right now, he watched him do it over and over. He used the woman's wasted muscle and teeth for liver functions, hair and collagen became props for her struggling heart as Stenman's manipulations increased the demand for blood flow. Veins and arteries were shunted, those abandoned used for raw material as Harry's area of responsibility shrank to sustaining that one remaining area of healthy pink flesh.
This was different than one of Harry's normal healings where there was a profound give and take of function in order to achieve a living balance. In light of what he was witnessing now, the scope of Harry's talents was astounding--and sobering. Suddenly all the warnings Albus had uttered, the solid balance he'd relentlessly, yet surreptitiously established between them with their bonding and their respective magical abilities made tremendous sense if one considered the potential for abuse of any one of them.
Damn the man. He hated when time proved the old man right.
Severus dropped out of his reverie when he felt the first 'push' Stenman made against Harry's work. What the hell was he doing? Contractions? He planned on birthing the child? This was sheer idiocy; Harry had just stabilised the woman, his heavy use of her own body keeping her alive, but with the contractions visibly rippling through her belly, Severus could sense her slipping away quickly with the increased demands on her systems.
Sweating with the effort, Harry said through clenched teeth, "Damn it, Stenman, hurry this up. I don't know why you're choosing this route, but I can't hold her forever. There's not much left of her to draw upon."
Severus heard Stenman's low chuckle. "You'll hold her as long as I need you to, Magister."
Harry's sharply indrawn breath was the only indication of his distress.
Within minutes of his warning, nothing useful remained within the woman. The only thing Harry had left, with which he had direct contact, was himself. Breathless, Severus watched Harry go deeper and, using the Sanos, he tied her cardiac system to his own to keep blood pumping through veins her dying heart could no longer support. With the continuing contractions, the demand for oxygen-rich blood was immense. The Sanos rang strong and true, the note deepening as Harry took over her breathing. The other systems he could not hold started failing in an inevitable cascade effect. Poisons began building in her body as her kidneys, with one final sacrifice of her heart and lungs, struggled to filter blood for both mother and child. Severus knew fear, his vision filled with Harry and the woman breathing in unison, her heartbeat his own.
"Stenman, end this now, or you will lose them both," Harry gasped, sweat pouring off his face.
"Very well, Potter, if you insist." The scalpel was in Stenman's hands before Severus even registered its presence. With one neat slice the 'healer' opened the woman's abdomen; a second precise cut breached the uterus. Throwing the scalpel to the side, he plunged his hands into the bloody mess.
With the sudden drop in blood pressure as the woman bled out, Harry jerked, and in that one moment Severus knew the time of Harry's decision had arrived. If Harry let go now, which would ensure his own life, both mother and child would die immediately. If he held on, every second Stenman used would pull him deeper into the Sanos, deeper into his 'investment' as Harry used his own body to sustain them. Soon, all three of them would die.
Harry chose the risk.
And yet Stenman waited. Severus wanted to kill the man; as he'd thought, the former Death Eater was purposefully holding back, waiting for Harry to cross the point of no return, the private triumph and probable reward for Harry Potter's murder, his to claim. Harry, concentrating on his task, was oblivious to the delay.
Severus silently urged Harry to withdraw; there was still time for him to do so. It was one thing to intellectually know of Harry's risks, quite another to see that he would sacrifice their life together to save someone who might very well die anyway. All the old doubts and fears crashed through him. Was any stranger worth their happiness? Was Harry so arrogant in his successes he forgot the price of failure? Severus' cost? Did Harry still risk himself like this?
Then he took in the calm serenity overshadowing the strain lining his husband's face and his mounting anger suddenly deflated; no, Harry didn't take anything he did casually. To him, his life weighed equally against that of a child's. Severus smiled ruefully to himself; he wouldn't be 'his' Harry if he thought any other way.
However, this time it was different. Even in a memory, one he knew Harry had survived, Severus didn't understand why Harry was still engaged. Why couldn't he see that this was pointless, an obvious trap. With growing irritation, he unthinkingly yelled, "Harry! Watch out--the bastard means to kill you!"
It was then Severus heard the low, growling hissing. Sleave! He'd forgot she was there. Uncoiling from Harry's forearm, the golden snake dropped to what had once been the woman's face and, with a twist Severus had only heard of but never actually seen, changed to a lurid purple with green stripes, making her deadly intent immediately recognizable. As fast as lightning, she undulated across the body until she was on top of the mound of the woman's stomach, stopping only to hiss menacingly at Stenman who, seeing her for the first time, paled. Sleave sprang the short distance to Stenman's arm and before he could blink, she was on his shoulder, ready to bite his earlobe. Stenman froze, and Severus had the satisfaction of seeing him sweat.
Harry's eyes flew open. Looking over, he could see Harry's face change to rage as he listened to Sleave. "The child--or your life--choose, Stenman," Harry gasped.
Without hesitation, Stenman's hands firmly held the tiny baby as he pulled her out of her mother. With Sleave still riding his shoulder, her tail wrapped around his neck, Stenman turned on his heel and placed the blood covered child in the middle of the cot and activated an unusual stasis spell, one Severus held in his mind to remember. He cut the cord with his wand.
Harry staggered as he disengaged. Severus knew there was nothing he could do; the woman was dead and the only emotion he could feel Harry dredging up at the moment was gratitude that she'd not taken him with her. Pulling himself back together with a shudder, Harry took the restorative he always carried on him. The effects were immediate as colour returned to his face; he no longer looked like he was liable to topple over at any moment.
Standing facing Harry, Severus could hear Stenman fussing with the baby, casting a series of spells to keep her alive in a language he recognized from the darker books in the library. With careful steps, Harry pulled his wand; standing behind Stenman, he held out his arm, hand extended. Following a string of Parseltongue, Sleave slithered to Harry, sliding effortlessly under the cuff of his robe, only to emerge a few moments later, her head extended over the back of his hand, her body coiled around his wrist. Once again her favoured golden colour, she resembled nothing more than an ornamental bracelet, although Severus knew her stance meant she was ready to attack.
Severus made a mental note to give her an extra dollop of cream tomorrow.
Stenman's attention now firmly fixed on the child before him, Harry stepped back and turned to face Colch, all but forgotten in the corner of the room. Severus had idly noted earlier that Colch had tried to leave, but a quick spell from Stenman had stopped him in his tracks, effectively trapping him in the room. Harry levelled the wand at the cowering director, threatening, "As of this moment, you and your contract can go to hell." Colch opened his mouth to speak and Sleave raised her head, hissing at him. "Null And Void! Say another word and--"
"Stenman, are you finished yet? This place is depressing and we need to get home soon to get ready for the Lestrange's party tonight," a familiar voice drawled.
Harry whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he confirmed the identity of the speaker standing in the doorway. "Malfoy! What the--" He stopped in dawning horror. Severus realised it at the same time Harry whispered, "That was Eunice, wasn't it? Your wife." At Draco's mordacious grin and nod, Harry yelled, "What kind of fucking monster are you? You did this to your wife?"
Draco shrugged. "The bitch outlived her usefulness and refused to cooperate, so I made her. The child on the other hand--she's already contracted and I bloody well am not going to give up the profitable alliance it took me months to arrange." He smiled maliciously. "That she'll probably prove malleable with her 'limitations', as the good doctor here so quaintly puts it, will only be a plus to her future husband. She's whole enough for our purposes; she'll be well able to breed, and that's all she's good for in any event."
With a snarl, Harry raised his hands, Sleave ducking back under his cuff out of the way. Severus could feel Harry's cold rage from where he stood and he was frightened by it. Colch stepped forward and cried out, "Harry, don't--"
"Silence!" Harry roared, his outflung hand sending Colch stumbling back against the wall. He turned his attention back to Draco, advancing on him. Behind him, Stenman watched with interest. "You are a sick, perverted bastard. You do not deserve to live. You deserve to suffer as you have made others suffer." He raised his arms and, opening his hands wide, Draco flew through the air, his feet flailing futilely as Harry's magic pinned him against the wall.
Severus had always known Harry was dangerous, had always known there would come a time when Harry would find himself in a position to tip the balance and fall into darkness. Evidently, that time appeared to be now.
Stenman fired a curse at Harry, but his defensive shields, still firmly in place, held and it bounced off harmlessly. Concentrating on Draco in front of him, Harry's face, as still as if carved in the palest marble, was terrible to behold.
Then Severus heard it. He could feel Harry's power curling tight within him, the Sanos ringing sharp and bitter, its now-cacophonous song slicing through the room, centring on Draco's body held tight against the wall with Harry's magic, fuelled by Harry's righteous anger and, as Severus suspected, some small memories of his own.
It started beneath the surface. Draco began to pant, a whimper of pain escaping his lips as he started turning red. The cries he made were cut off suddenly. His eyes began to bulge as Harry raised the pressures of the fluids in his body. One by one, the veins distended, popping out like thick blue ropes on face and hands, the only things visible outside his robes. Draco began to gasp for air as the exposed veins started writhing like worms crawling beneath his skin. Similar movements could be seen beneath his robes. His mouth gaped in an endless, wordless scream. Turning from red to purple, his body bloated from the pressure within.
A gush of blood spurted from Draco's nose, quickly staining the front of his exposed shirt. Harry stared at it, struggling now with a different, internal conflict. Even dimmed by this memory, Severus could feel Harry's overpowering hatred of Draco, but there was also an underlying loathing directed at himself. Torn between his own baser instincts and what he knew needed to be done, Severus silently urged Harry to listen to his quieter voice of reason lest he cross the line he'd drawn for himself years before. He almost cheered as Harry slowly lowered his wand, the Sanos note beginning to fade, when a thin wail pierced the silence of the room. The discordant Sanos song suddenly stopped and, with a dull thud, Draco fell to the floor in a heap, his chest heaving as he drew life-giving air into his lungs.
Harry shuddered and cast wildly around the room as if seeing it for the first time until his eyes settled on the girl-child lying alone in the cot, crying, a haze of magic around her tiny body. Shaking, Harry walked over to the baby and, disregarding the sparks of defence magic flying as he entered their sphere, he bent and kissed her gently on the forehead, his hand cupping her cheek.
His expression puzzled, Harry stood motionless as if he were processing something he sensed from touching her. He pulled back quickly, his face blanching in horror as he whispered, "No! Not even for this. Oh gods, what have I done?" With an inarticulate cry, Harry Apparated out of the room.
The memory stopped abruptly and Severus found himself floating in darkness.
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TBC