Hi All,
First thing first, this is J.K. Rowling's world, and I don't make any money of doing this, only having fun gratefully. What you recognize is Rowling's, and I have marked her words with bold when I cited. (I need to get along with a part of the original plot for later use.)
Welcome to the journey DeedusMageedus and shadegwynbleidd, I'm so glad you joined!
Thank you for the reviews! Yes, I will post the whole story, I have already written it out, I only need to type it in and edit, although I find it has some changes in the process, so I will keep posting in about every ten days. Also, I thank here again to excessivelyperky for being such a wonderful beta. If encouragement had a face it would remind of yours!
I'm glad if I managed to make you curious about Snape's letter and other paperwork, his plans are his secrets, but I promise you will all read that letter – eventually.
Also, I'd like to ask you if you see any other "pet peeves" hurt in the process, please command my attention so I can make adjustments. Dear Guest reviewer, "challenge" it is, and thank you.
And now…
Chapter 31. Gear up!
Without him noticing the fact, Severus Snape's steps regained some buoyancy. His posture and moves now included some of the roughness he so circumspectly tried to leave behind after he'd rejoined Hogwarts as a sinner converted.
Toughened up by the force of finally making a choice of his own devising, a row of subtle changes began to take place. Like unconsciously replacing his, these days usual, long-sleeved shirt with a combo of leather coat and a rock-band tee he remembered he liked in his youth, and blue jeans, which he hadn't worn for more than a decade, when he transfigured his robe into Muggle clothing. Or his expression of his usual awareness now mixing with a calculating but determined look upon his face instead of the constant searching others used to see in his eyes. Severus was unaware of that at all.
His window-shopping and searching through the bookstores, second-hand bookshops, and later nosing around electrical shops, specialty shops for engines and tools, and motorcycle saloons went unnoticed by the Muggles. On his unusual route about the town he also didn't attract the attention of anyone with a wizarding cell in their system either, since he knew Death Eaters roaming London kept far away from such places by habit.
The day flew away without him noticing the time, only marking the hours by grabbing a bite at a kebab place some time after noon, and again, when twilight descended on the city. He Apparated back to Hogwarts only to begin his ramblings anew in Edinburgh, the next day, then in Sheffield, Manchester, Brighton and Liverpool. Again and again he took advice from Muggle salesmen. He went all the way and saw all to see, only to return to London a day before New Year, this time dressed for Diagon Alley, where he made a serious withdrawal from his account at Gringotts - for the greatest astonishment of the goblin – in Muggle money. That was the riskiest part, but he felt he managed to operate undetected, being the last client of the day in the imposing white building, since he knew most established wizards liked to choose the early hours to do their transactions.
On the morning of the last day of the year, Severus took his nylon bag of crispy English pounds and Apparated to Bath. It was a town he had never been to, never knew a soul among its citizens such as they had no way to know him. The wizarding society there was small, especially in the winter-months. The perfect circumstances for him to open a new account in a Muggle bank.
By the time he returned to the usual Hogwarts feast, he was a proud owner of a bank card, a credit card, numerous brochures, folders, a life insurance policy with a recipient he didn't even name aloud, only slipped the agent her name on a scrap of paper, and a shelf-worth of books about Muggle engines, history, and mechanics that he bought along the way. All neatly packed away in a chest under his bathroom cabinet defended with curses he wouldn't wish even most of his enemies to suffer – however it was upon them if they forced the experience on themselves or not. The additional benefit was that he'd unearthed his almost-forgotten Death Eater mask and given it a thorough cleaning.
Seeing Beauxbaton by the table was a well-expected punch in the stomach, so he kept calm. It was much harder to suffer witnessing her friendly conversation with Flitwick, but Severus decided she couldn't have a way to know about their altercation. Minerva proved more considerate, or she truly had some remaining hard feelings against the tiny professor of Charms. She mainly conversed with Pomona, Aurora, and surprisingly even with Sybil Trelawney, who seemed to have forgotten to consult her crystal balls that day, because she didn't look less amazed by this friendliness than others did.
When Sage finally joined the female section and seemed to get a hearty welcome from their colleagues, Severus risked a sombre nod towards her and received a warm smile. It was enough for the evening. He treasured the small reassurance and retreated to his dungeons with renewed energy to switch to 'step four' of his careful plans, studiously avoiding any thoughts spent on her, or as a matter of fact, on Dumbledore's unusual lack of attention towards him at the table. Not that he especially missed his taunts and jokes, but it was a tell-tale sign of Aberforth keeping his promise.
He skipped wondering if the Headmaster was in shock or just saved the worst possibilities for retaliation for later. Severus read through his list for stocking up the Infirmary's supplies to a tee and began his brewing. The short days before the kids returned to school were almost enough to get everything in order. They would have been enough, having he not taken time to reorganize his storage rooms, freeing up shelves for personal use. Here he stocked the additional brews compiling the other list.
That list included all possible first-aid potions he could think of, various pain killers, blood-replenishing potions, antiseptics, the essence of murtlap and dittany, Skele-Gro, antidotes for hexes and for a large variety of poisons, including antidotes for non-magical animals' venom, for toxic plants and poisonous magical creatures, and for the most popular poisons he knew his less-respectable acquaintances liked to choose. Here he left place for additions with a grimace. Alas, he knew no way to garner all of the antidotes he might have wished for. Severus winced every time he stared at that empty spot but reminded himself of discipline and conquered his fears and bad premonitions. At least thus he had ample space for bandages and dressing materials, lint, Band-Aids, clamps, sewing tools, and a sterilized silver knife – all packed in a box.
The more the first Monday of the term approached, the more he struggled with his nerves. Potter. Pesky, dimwitted, tiresome Potter. Step number five - to annul maybe all.
He put all his bets on the boy. Now, what if he was wrong? Beauxbaton deserved better. Heck, Lily's memory deserved better! He still couldn't find a better way than to try and build some bridges to truly co-operate with the brat... the Fool-card, number 0. As much as he believed most of Trelawney's ramblings hogwash, he was out of alternatives, and the Headmaster's insistence to raise the kid to be the equal to the Prophecy only made sense from the Dark Lord's single-minded point of view.
All the same – he decided with a sigh. He was the one who had called this craze upon the head of all involved in his miscarried attempt to garner some respect and station. Now he tried for neither. Only to right what was wrong for his debt to Lily, and to present Sage with some space to move with freedom. He only loved twice, and neither seemed a success. However, devotion didn't ask for compensation. It was about giving, and he was determined to do so.
The times of head-scratching were over. Whether the dimwit was capable or not, he would extract the best of him. Although after the pitiful mockery of classwork the brat produced in the morning, Severus had to revisit some meditational techniques he learned from Héloïse to conquer his doubts. Just let's process easy here, carefully! No matter if the Dark Lord shows up in the boy's mind, his involvement in preparing the boy would compromise him as soon as the devil decided to look into Potter's head. There was exactly nothing to do about it, so there was no use to lament it.
He pondered how much he should reveal to the boy. Should Potter know the stakes, or would he be better left in some sense of safety the headmaster so carefully tried to build for him? Which would enable him more to learn? Severus didn't like either of the approaches. Frightening the boy would only achieve more resistance, but at Grimmauld he saw the kid so naïve and ignorant, it actually freaked him out nearly as much as him admitting to feeling the Dark Lord's snake.
No matter which way he twisted the facts, the question remained: Potter had to learn under pressure because he would be tested under the most severe pressure, but could he withstand the truth if he told him? Severus doubted.
At exactly six o'clock sharp, Potter carefully opened his office door. It would have been hard to tell which one of those present was the wearier of the other, but obviously, the boy looked more alarmed, showing all signs of considering himself walking on enemy territory. His eyes darted left and right with the gaze of prey looking out to flee in time.
Severus swiped away a bothering thought about Gryffindor's courage and decided against warding the door behind him. He tried to console himself with the fact that the brat at least wasn't late. There was no other sign of respect to detecting about him… must be Black's influence as a godfather unmatched.
"As I told you back in your godfather's house, this branch of magic can seal the mind against magical intrusion and influence."- Severus cautiously began, trying to establish some routine to calm them. Him at least.
"And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?"
Another prime example of the boy's cluelessness and Severus still couldn't decide if he should enlighten him or make him feel safe.
"Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency–"
"What is that, sir?"
As hard as it was to neglect disrespect, now they finally headed somewhere. Ignorance could be remedied without giving reason for panic.
"It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind–"
"He can read minds?"
If I wanted to say that, that would have been what you've heard! – Severus grumbled inwardly.
"You have no subtlety, Potter. You do not understand fine distinctions." He was sure Lily would have elbowed him in the ribs for sounding like a dictionary, but he had no reason to trust the boy's understanding. "This is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker." Those green eyes flared up with sudden anger, not very different of what the boy's mother would have shown. At least she would have had a reason. But there was no place now for silent amusement, Severus had a go at it with a sigh:
"Only Muggles talk about 'mind-reading.' The mind is not a book to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by an invader, the mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter. At least most minds are." The inside joke was wasted on the brat, but he needed an outlet for his nerves.
"It is true, however, that those that mastered Legilimency are able, under any conditions to delve into the minds of their victim and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so can utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."
It felt peculiar to talk about all that so openly. Severus began to realize he would need time later to catch up with his own feelings on the matter. Still, now with images swirling up to surface about those many kinds of situations in a Legilimens could work – like in the depth of Azkaban with Dementors on his heel… or as a matter of fact an Occlumens, lying on his back with a sprained shoulder, panting after the Cruciatus, struggling to quickly build up his memories and mindscape to a falsity that wasn't a lie, but deceiving just enough…
"So he could know what we are thinking right now? Sir?" The question shocked him back to the problem at hand and he tried to reassure Potter as much as to calm himself:
"The Dark Lord is at a considerable distance right now and the walls of Hogwarts are guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safety of those who dwell within them. Time and space are matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency."
"Then why do I have to learn Occlumency?"
Severus paused. He was reasonably sure he just explained it quite circumspectly… and not for the first time. Reluctance was one thing, but risking to sound this boneheaded? Then it occurred to him, the boy might have a different agenda. He promised him answers, and Potter might very well may be curious to knowing more about the war than it was his place. Make him learn by gain his trust – it still felt absurd, but maybe…
"The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that didn't kill you forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord," - the Headmaster had told him at least as much as that, he hoped. Severus began to unconsciously caress his lips with a finger, as if he could catch any errant words before they fell. "Evidence suggests that times when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable, when you are asleep for instance, you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. The Headmaster thinks it is inadvisable for this to continue, he wishes me to teach you how to close your mind against the Dark Lord."
If Severus thought the strong reminder of Gryffindor's icon might do the trick, he was into a serious surprise.
"But why does Professor Dumbledore want to stop it? I don't like it much, but it's been useful, hasn't it?"
No, it hasn't, you brat, had the almighty bastard listened to me in time, you wouldn't have even stayed here to pose an additional threat! Not without training in the summer, anyway…
"It appears as if the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection until recently." – Severus measured all the words still wondering why Dumbledore's wish wasn't sufficient reason for the golden boy to learn. "Up till now it seems you have been experiencing his emotions and staring at his thoughts without his being any wiser. However the vision you had shortly before Christmas–"
"The one with the snake and Mr. Weasley?"
Now the disrespect began to grate on his nerves.
"Do not interrupt me, Potter! As I was saying, the vision you had shortly before Christmas represented such a powerful incursion upon the Dark Lord's thoughts –"
"I saw inside the snake's head, not his!"
Oh, for fuck's sake!
"I thought I just told you not to interrupt me, Potter?"
"How come I saw through the snake's eyes if it's Voldemort's thoughts I'm sharing?"
Severus cringed. How could someone risk evoking the devil into such a conversation?
"Do not say the Dark Lord's name!"
"Professor Dumbledore says his name,"
Oh nice, and can you also defeat a Grindelwald… whatever the circumstances?
"Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard. While he may feel secure enough to use the name . . . the rest of us . . ." – Severus touched his left arm with hesitance. He knew the brat understood his meaning and could only hope he would respect the boundary. Surely, this must be a warning strong enough about reality and the risk he took…
"I just wanted to know, why–" - the boy seemed finally subdued. It was such good news Severus didn't contemplate much his answer.
"You seem to have visited the snake's mind because that was where the Dark Lord was at that particular moment. He was possessing the snake at the time and so you dreamed you were inside it too…"
"And Vol – he – realized I was there?"
Finally!
"It seems so."
"How do you know?"
WHAT?
"Is this just Professor Dumbledore guessing, or– ?"
Now, what happened to the hero-worship and the Gryffindor loyalty? The Headmaster 'guessing'? The brat needed remedials in basic politeness before attempting Potions or mind magic!
"I told you to call me 'sir.'" - Severus decided if he was milked for information on the headmaster, he might as well get all the respect he was due while at it.
"Yes, sir, but how do you know– ?"
A shockingly accurate memory threatened to surface about finding himself on his back with prying red eyes demanding his thoughts, and it wasn't anything he was ready to share. Oh, for Merlin's mighty staff, I should know if he debunked Dumbledore's little game! It was my skin and sanity if you happened to wonder! Not that either of those would be important to any of you. Potter's game was finally clear, but this was not the right question for him to ask, and he had to understand that.
"It is enough that we know." – Severus offered the plural as a gift to take if the boy was cunning enough. "The important point is that the Dark Lord is now aware that you are gaining access to his thoughts and feelings. He has also deduced that the process is likely to work in reverse; that is to say, he has realized that he might be able to access your thoughts and feelings in return–"
"And he might try and make me do things? Sir?"
Had I not just told you not to interrupt you might have a point for bloody Gryffindor… - Severus grimaced.
"He might. Which brings us back to Occlumency."
Severus had enough of the chit-chat, there would surely be time enough later, now they both should get ready. This wasn't scholarly work.
Severus stepped to the Pensive and emptied his memories about Lily into the magical bowl, adding some other small fragments of thoughts and emotion he didn't want to risk sharing. Sharing? If only the wonder boy proved good enough to present a risk! …but he wasn't one to take chances anyway. No one was to know about his promise. Especially not before one could keep a secret, and especially not this little pain in the–
Severus abruptly turned from the Pensive and schooled himself into his coolest self and demeanour. No mistakes this time.
"Stand up and take out your wand, Potter," – he began to draw out the rules. Rules and boundaries always soothed his nerves. He couldn't imagine they wouldn't have the same effect on Potter. And it seemed the boy needed to calm down too.
"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of."
"And what are you going to do?"
"I am about to attempt to break into your mind. We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse…."
– Which was impressive. He had to admit that. Even if Barty Crouch had never been so skilled at casting an Imperius as Lucius had always thought back to his last time he'd needed to fend off the curse. A long time passed since. He'd just left Hogwarts then, and a friend of Karkaroff thought it would be funny to make a fool of him. The curse hit the surface of his mind, leaving the depth of his personality almost intact. After the initial shock, it was easier to shake it off than ordering his emotions.
"You will find that similar powers are needed for this…. Brace yourself, now…." – he warned and tried to take his own advice. "Legilimens!"
Severus sank into the child's mind without any distinct aim. He focused on his own discipline not to get distracted by those very green eyes he mostly avoided, so the tumult of swirling emotions and half-produced thoughts hit him with force. The boy was anxious, suspicious and a little more hostile towards him than he expected, also unnerved by standing in front of his wand. Rightly so – he approved of that, but the rest?
Usually, to experience another's mind also meant to encounter a basic structure. Something to order the thoughts, memories or at least the knowledge, but here he couldn't perceive even a trace of that! Instead, emotions, ideas, desires and fears swirled all the way, above and beyond thoughts that were yet to form completely, memories the boy didn't even call… and emotions… emotions everywhere till his stomach twisted. It was no coincidence he needed Héloïse's attention before he stopped closing off all his own feelings, he wasn't used to them… and this turbulence was dazzling! He tried to grab after a memory fragment just to get rid of this mental assault.
Jealousy slapped into his face escorting an image of a fat boy riding a bike. He recognized Petunia for a second, and it was hard not to grin with malicious glee when taking a look for the first time at her Muggle husband – Sweet God, what a blockhead! Before his thoughts could jeopardize the connection, an angry dog turned up and chased the boy's younger self up on a tree. The next second, Potter almost sorted into Slytherin – Praise all gods he hadn't! The shock hadn't even subsided when at least a hundred Dementors approached above the Black Lake – Where the hell had the boy acquire such a memory? Severus hardly had time to think it through, one of the sixth year Ravenclaws appeared with all the attributes of a teenage boy's fantasy–
Thankfully the boy finally got to his senses enough to shout. "No, you're not watching that, you're not watching it, it's private!"
Of course it is, you dolt, this is the point – Severus couldn't help but be amused, even more, for their task didn't seem as impossible as he feared it would prove to be. Potter had indeed a measure of talent in shaking off intrusion. It was worth an aching wrist.
"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" - Severus found himself open for some celebratory small talk, but the boy obviously didn't feel the same.
"No."
"I thought not," – nothing could spoil his mood at the moment. That was a beginning. "You let me get in too far. You lost control," – he tried to advise.
"Did you see everything I saw?"
Oh, yes, but you'd better not know that!
"Flashes of it. To whom did the dog belong?"
"My Aunt Marge,"
Severus couldn't recall anyone with that name. Must be on Tunney's husband's side…. He had to wonder if Petunia had learned to like pets in these past twenty-some years, but he doubted it was possible. Tunney Evans would never utter the word "pest" without the "s"!
"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been." – he praised Potter, be it as unlikely as Petunia Evans having a dog. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."
"I'm trying, but you're not telling me how!"
Could the brat loathe him so much he couldn't even accept a good word? Severus grimaced.
"Manners, Potter! Now, I want you to close your eyes."
After his aborted attempt at praising, Severus couldn't find the boy's reluctance entertaining.
"Clear your mind, Potter! Let go of all emotion. . ." – he tried to convey his good intentions through his voice, but it bounced off those strained facial muscles and rapidly moving eyes under the closed lids.
"You're not doing it, Potter…. You will need more discipline than this…. Focus, now…."
Severus tried to give time enough to achieve some calm and clarity, and he used the same time to discipline himself and only went on when he saw the boy's face eventually relax.
"Let's go again… on the count of three… one – two – three – Legilimens!"
This time Severus had an aim: powerful memories. On the one hand, the Dark Lord frequently played on his prey's inner fears. On the other, he was curious to know more about those Dementors. From all the strange kaleidoscopes he encountered, those seemed to have been the most dangerous, and he would have lied if he said he didn't freak out. Especially because he had no idea where that image might have come from.
A dragon, he at least remembered that one; Lily – No way would he see through her last moments, not a chance! – Severus abruptly turned his attention away before his emotions compromised the whole attempt. The Diggory boy's death… Enough is enough!
"NOOOOOOO!" - Potter yelled even after he lifted his wand. This time he couldn't find amusement in what he had seen, and the stabbing hot weight of grief that now lingered between them he knew only too well. The boy lay on the floor panting, and Severus wasn't pleased at all.
"Get up!" – he demanded. Transforming grief into anger without recognizing what he was doing. It was as natural for him as to breathe by now. But this time he wasn't angry on the brat. He was angry for his sake. "Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!"
"I – am – making – an – effort."
The claim was hollow, he should know, he wallowed in this cesspit for longer than a decade and still it wasn't far…
"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!"
"Yeah? Well, I'm finding that hard at the moment," – Potter quarrelled in his most impudent tone and something in Severus wanted to scream. D'you think I don't know that?! You dare to think I don't know that it's HARD?
Severus lost patience, if the boy wanted to know what was truly hard, it was time for him to realize what he risked!
"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!" The nerve of this whiney little idiot, he knew when someone gave up. He knew it first hand and most intimately! "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily – weak people, in other words – they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!"
"I am not weak," – the brat took a stance for fight, and it gave back a modicum of hope.
"Then prove it!" – Severus grabbed on the word. "Master yourself! Control your anger, discipline your mind!" He was glad to see the fire returning to the child's eyes. Anything was better than watching him agonizing on the floor.
"We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens!"
He was so surprised seeing the childhood abuse, he didn't even try to slow down the image when the Dementors appeared again. What the actual fuck was Petunia thinking? Did Dumbledore know? Before he could do anything about the shocking information, he saw pictures that didn't belong. A corridor. And emotions he couldn't recognize… and the memory pulled him along with force. Didn't the brat realize how dangerous this was? This pull was unnatural and dark – Severus lifted his wand with haste before it could suck in his awareness too.
However, before he could challenge the boy to answer for this abominable image, Potter cried out with what seemed triumph.
"I KNOW! I KNOW!"
The hair already standing up on his arm with alarm, Severus cautiously asked:
"What happened then, Potter?"
"I saw – I remembered, I've just realized . . ."
"Realized what?" - It was hard to not sound threatening when all his instincts suggested shaking the boy for good, like his masters - or his father - would have done to him in a similar situation.
"What's in the Department of Mysteries?" – The boy asked with such conviction he'd never heard from him before.
It was a rare occasion when Severus was truly unnerved. "What did you say?"
"I said, what's in the Department of Mysteries, sir?"
Even his inner voice could only stutter – he had to win time.
"And why, would you ask such a thing?"
"Because, that corridor I've just seen – I've been dreaming about it for months – I've just recognized it – it leads to the Department of Mysteries… and I think Voldemort wants something from –"
"I have told you not to say the Dark Lord's name!"
For fuck's sake, he's known it for months?
Severus switched off his internal screaming and tried to digest the thought that Dumbledore's wonder boy sat among his peers all the time while they struggled to misdirect attention, and just knew what the Dark Lord was about!
How dare he utter the name if he even had a first-hand experience on its effect? Did he enjoy being a puppet, a threat, a victim?
Severus drew a long, calming breath and reminded himself on discipline. He wasn't ready for this. The boy might wish for information, but this was not one he could give.
"There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, few of which you would understand and none of which concern you, do I make myself plain?"
"Yes,"- Potter sounded defiant and angry.
It would have been nice to convince him of the importance of stopping his endeavours from ruining them all, alas Severus knew his patience wore too thin to carry on now. The sooner he had the boy outside his office, the better for them both. However, he couldn't let him go without some reassurance that he wouldn't seek that strange pull within his mind.
"I want you back here same time on Wednesday, and we will continue work then."
"Fine," – Potter's defiance didn't subdue a bit.
"You are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep – empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand?" - The urgency in his own voice was shameful for Severus' ears, but he couldn't see the brat catching his point.
"And be warned, Potter…" – he went on after the boy grumbled something affirming he listened. "I shall know if you have not practiced…"
"Right," - Potter nodded, already reaching for his things and leaving with haste that failed to reassure him about his intentions. It didn't even matter at this point. Severus was glad to hear that door shut behind the brat while he methodically reintroduced all memories about Lily, and some more, to his mind.
By the time the Pensive was empty, his head had ached enough to hinder forming a coherent thought, and he was as dizzy and nauseous as every time after submerging into a foreign mind.
Except into hers.
Severus grabbed onto the edge of his desk and let himself recall the complex memory of sinking into Sage's mind with a hint of guilt, but so much gratitude and longing it would have been worth for a prayer. A divine moment of harmony and serenity passed before he realized something was off. He had to pull himself from his objectionable meditation to find his senses calmed, but his Dark Mark burning with urgency.
Severus paled with sudden panic. Could the Dark Lord sense him through the boy's mind? Was it that encounter with the foreign will? He swallowed his fears and hurried back to his quarters to find his Death Eater robe, and by instinct, he pushed the mask into his pocket. He only stopped for a second to let his magic envelop him with its layers of calm and safety he had no other way to produce or to maintain. This and his Occlumency should do the trick unless he walked straight into a deadly curse.
In which case, Chubby had a duty to carry out sooner than any of them suspected. But, at least he was prepared.
When he entered the ramshackle manor house, it was abuzz with mumbled voices. He could sense the crowd before he stepped into the living room.
"Ah, Severus!" – The Dark Lord greeted him in an obviously good mood, and he bowed deeply before him. "With Avery's relentless work in the Ministry, we are finally ready to make our move. Join us!"
He needed not to risk a look towards Lucius to know what it meant for the bugger that his name didn't come up in the praise. It was not the time to lament the reasons behind Malfoy's sudden fall in the Dark Lord's graces.
"My faithful servants are waiting for me, and the guards should get back their freedom!" – Voldemort announced with great satisfaction. "Come, my friends, we free Azkaban tonight!"
An all too familiar rush of cold ran through Severus' veins. There were no emotions. He set his mask in place and Apparated on the spot with all his peers and comrades like the machine he was supposed to be. The prison island was a solid dark mass across the piece of the sea under their feet, and the Dark Lord rose into the air without any aid in his flight. A stupid little voice tried to contemplate the difference his magic sensed as he did so and his own experiences, but Snape hushed it with polished ease. The Dark Lord flew above the sea towards the prison island and melted into the blackening sky.
They waited in silence for what seemed hours but the wait couldn't be more than minutes. Lucius unobtrusively made his way to his side in the crowd of the first and second circle of the followers, and they shared a small nod before the hell unleashed.
It began with a low throbbing in the magic around them, a slow murmur as if it came from the depth of the earth and the sea. Then the air seemed to shimmer like the surface of boiling water until a crack of purple lightning made way for a legion of shadows emerging above their heads from the island.
The cold and devastation weren't alien to any of those who gathered here tonight. When their Marks ignited as one, signalling that the Dark Lord had broken the wards, they followed the pull of the calling, and turned on their heels to Apparate en masse on the island's shore. Hundreds of Dementors tore through the sky above them. Their open mouths sucked in the evening air and all feelings it might have carried. The small contingent of Ministry guards didn't stand a chance when the Dark Lord's cohort started off. Snape stunned the first man coming across him, petrified the second and the third seriatim, and could only hope the wretch had luck enough not to fall into the sea. He couldn't see sideways, and there was no turning back.
A detonation blasted the prison's outer wall to a heap of straggly rocks, and the fellows of the second circle divided like a river around them, shooting stunners and curses all around while the big boys rushed in.
The silence was ominous, and Snape felt Malfoy's fleeting touch on his wrist. They both changed step, holding only a wee bit behind, only just enough so that the first volley of stunners didn't get them, and the collapsing ceiling fell just far enough ahead for them to avoid it. But there was no more place for cunning. Nott ran along the bars, blasting all of the cell doors open, and Crabbe shouted Ennervate on everyone fallen from their rows. Jugson, the senior, was already grabbing at the Carrows and Wilkes when Malfoy hurried to a side corridor and freed Rodolphus Lestrange.
Without a thought, Snape blasted open the cell door for Gibbons before Macnair could get there and ran on promptly to free Mulciber too. Was it wrong to be glad for him being alive? At least the old friend's weak attempt at a grateful hug slipped down Snape's shoulder and became only a desperate squeeze on his arm. He could understand it. With the next move, Mulciber grabbed up a wand, probably rolled off someone's hand when the ceiling crashed down, and, with the hysterical laughter of a madman, tore through the pile of debris to have his revenge on the Ministry guards.
He wasn't the only one. Bellatrix screamed at the top of her lungs, waving a wand she must have looted as soon as she could leave her cell. She chased everyone living through the ruins of her prison. Wilkes, Travers (the older), Selwyn, Rowle, Gibbons, Yaxley, and a bunch of others Snape couldn't even recognize rushed along on her heels.
Rodolphus got next to Snape and touched his shoulder, so he turned and followed him to the second floor with Malfoy and Dolohov behind him to rob the governor's office. It was sensible to prey back the wands that remained along the years, and Snape proved useful breaking the curse on their container. However, setting the room on fire behind themselves, and blasting down the staircase just to celebrate, was a move worthy of Dolohov at his worst. The remaining guards had nowhere to flee from them and had no escape. In the senseless exchange of hexes and curses, Severus recognized a familiar face behind a row of bars, and he blasted Salis the merman's cell open. It wasn't much help in the crossfire.
Malfoy didn't care for a shield charm, as it had never been his way. He tried to flick his wand quick enough, so his enemies had no time to get him. Rodolphus seemed exhausted already, no wonder after his twelve years among the Dementors. Although Dolohov was as insane and efficient as ever, Snape had no reason to trust his methods more than Rodolphus' if he wanted to get out of this hell.
Trying to fend for himself, he caught sight of Salis shaking the bars on his window and stepped behind a wall to see what he tried to achieve. Across the narrow breach, he could see some light shimmer at the surface of the sea, and he spent little time to contemplate the rest.
"Lucius!" – he managed to yell before he rolled into the cell next to Salis, and with a Bombarda, he opened up a way out. The merman was quicker than he would have given him credit for to climb out without wasting a look back. He followed, only hoping not into the sea. Malfoy climbed at his heels - he didn't care about the rest.
Salis showed the way to the left onto the roof, where he tipped his forehead as an act of saying a mute farewell before he kicked away from the edge of the roof. Then, with a daredevil summersault, he dove away from the precipice – only with all his senses on edge could Snape hear him splashing into the sea.
Rodolphus and Dolohov came up panting behind them. The latter accounted for the breach he collapsed. Snape shuddered to think of the guards sealed in to be fed to the fire and could only hope one of them had enough good sense to make use of his wand. The rest was climbing-down to the destroyed prison yard, then running through ruins and fire till they got out on the shore. The fellows from the second circle had already left the island.
They Apparated with Avery, Bellatrix and Mulciber, the last to leave Azkaban, while the Dementors circled still in the air, in wider and wider rounds rotating, flourishing with sick delight as they moved towards the land. The Dark Lord stood on the rocks above the shore of the mainland, seemingly enraptured by the sight of the prison they left to burn. The hole he'd blasted into the roof of the prison and into the texture of magic yawned behind him as his followers gathered around.
Voldemort stood tall and reigned that night. His frame was a thin silhouette against the black and red of the fire and the darkness, his bold shape obscuring a part of the crescent Moon, only days short of a full circle, and his robe fluttering about his bare feet. He was a sight to behold. A sight of terror, a sight of devastation and fear. And all around him fell silent even in their minds because this terror, similar to death himself, could not bear words and noises.
That, until a high-pitched scream tore through the night.
"My lord, my protector, my only past and future! I worship you till my dying breath!" – Bellatrix hewed her way through the crowd and threw herself at the Dark Lord's feet, grabbing onto the edge of his robe. "Thank you, my master, for saving me! I always knew you would come for me!" – she whimpered, showering her kisses on the dirty cloth.
Occluding or not, Severus turned his head slightly to avoid the sight, so he could hear as if Lucius muttered to himself. It sounded curiously similar to "crazy cringer cow". Deciding between snickering in the Dark Lord's presence or witnessing the act of the most thorough bootlicking one ever could perform without an actual boot, Severus surrendered to his fate and fixed his eyes on Bellatrix. It was painful enough to be relieved when Voldemort ordered his "trusted friends" to join him by his table. Other times an impromptu revel wouldn't have sounded like a good idea, but seeing the alternative….
Severus Disapparated with the others, carrying more horror to remember than he ever wished for. At least he left with his sense of grim humour intact.