Hi All,
First of all, thank you whitdracco for the review! I am struggling now to keep any semblance of schedule and your words were a great inspiration to hurry up a little with this upload and the coming chapters. :) I know this plot and my handling of these characters might be a little different, I can only hope you all will like it, so all thoughts are welcome, really! I'd like to learn from you.
Of course Harry Potter and whatever you recognize belong to Rowling, I don't even envy it, I'm just grateful to play in her sandbox and you will find her words highlighted with bold as always.
Enjoy!
Chapter 40. As good as dead
A cheerful group of Londoners strolled down the street by Regent's Park a few hours before dawn. Although some may have been a tad unsteady on their feet, they still couldn't help but notice the strange bloke leaning to a tree, stooping down with his face a mask of pain, almost losing balance. Whoever he was, he didn't reply to their greetings, and closer observation showed his face soaked with his tears. Suddenly the stranger seemed to focus intently, and the next moment he straightened, adjusted his bizarre items of clothing, walked behind a corner, and disappeared with an odd popping noise.
When Severus turned up behind the gas station in Arizona, he timed his Locumtotum spell to arrive in the morning when he and Sage had returned to what proved a catastrophic reality. He was way too knackered to try to drive. Without sparing a look either way, he Apparated to his little camp, dismissed the wards, and walked straight to Sage's abandoned bed. It hadn't been two hours in this timeline since she'd left it. Her perfume tenderly lingered on her magically softened pillow, and in the short time before sleep finally claimed him, Severus imagined he still could feel her warmth.
The first few hours were pure bliss. He was dead to the world. The hazy pictures of troubled dreams only came later.
A creature with Lily's face granted him the ability to sense the freedom of his mind, soul, and magic, with the one condition that he would fall in love. The next moment he was inside Sage's mind, and he looked around for the first time. Parts of the maze he perceived were rotten. Other parts seemed frozen or wore the signs of fire damage. Severus couldn't decide which way to choose here, but then one of the memories flew up from the flowery parts, like a silvery goose. He reached out for it and saw a little girl.
She couldn't be older than ten, and she tiptoed her way up the stairs to peek into a room in the attic. She was overcome with awe by what she saw. Sometime later, the same girl lay daydreaming on a picnic blanket with her cousin reading next to her. Mira kept looking up to add details to the story they created. It was sweet and frothy, and both girls giggled with faces turned to the sun.
Then all the lightness vanished; it turned cold with a smell of rot. He saw a father, terrifying in his frequent anger, quarrelling with witches he now recognized as Héloïse and Polla Poultron. Mira hid behind the door, but Sage just stood there, watching, listening to her father's threats. The next moment Alastor blasted his daughter's first potions lab to pieces and dragged her away from Polla.
Flashes came, mixed up and tangled. Two teenage girls played catch-up with twenty questions – a bunch of Beauxbaton girls screamed in a corridor while wicked curses hit their hands and faces – silent conversations whispered in the summer night between cousins about a childish dream – Polla coming to Heloïse, refusing to lose her nieces. Iris was with her.
A quick series of images showed the three cousins having fun with wizards from their aunt's acquaintance – Iris fell in love, Leroy claimed Sage, and Mira admitted her love for her cousin's beau. Sage's voice was echoing in Severus' ears: "Aunt is far too proud to sell any of us!"
A village in turmoil and a car crash down the road by Severus' safe place – He received a cup of tea and some biscuits from a strange witch at Grimmauld Place – The Hogwarts library. "You know, magic is power indeed, your madmen got this right, but power is responsibility! You should write this on your Ministry's wall! Magic is responsibility, and however you despise or adore Polla Poultron, she would be the first to teach this to you all! You think your Dark Lord knows a fart about real pure-blood pride?!"
A bothersome image occurred about a young muggle boy carrying a guitar and wearing roller skates. Sage's voice washed it away: "For you, Polla is just a dark witch, but she holds tradition! She's a healer and a good one at that. She's just less scrupulous about her methods, but Polla cares about the villagers! For them, she's always been good! Our family is the longest-standing coven in Alsace. We are responsible for the people, and we would never hurt them! We would fight for them!"
Now, she sat with Dumbledore. "Should I remind you who I am? I'm not far enough away to forget that I am responsible for my blood and people. I will do what I deem the best for them." Then she crawled to the Dark Lord's feet and kissed the edge of his robe. Next she tried to hide her injuries, inflicted by Polla's whiplashing curse. "I will not tell you!" Polla stood high up on her balustrade.
"It wasn't the first attempt of the Roux. They took a handful of wizards. I didn't recognize any of them. Sage took some witch I can't really recall." – It was Lucius's voice! "She was shrieking in that flaming bubble, flew up as high as the highest tower and disappeared with a pop as loud as a blast."
Severus sat up straight, swimming in sweat, Sage's bedcover entangled around his legs. "There is no way Sage would ever support the Roux!" – he almost cried with relief.
She was there next to her aunt's stronghold, a place she knew since she was a child, and she couldn't get in? It was laughable! Lucius didn't even mention a Muggle village in sight! And she repeatedly visited her aunt… who loved her nieces and stood up for "her" Muggles. Now she'd dragged along a silent witch, Lucius couldn't even remember: …Trelawney!
Severus beamed like a fool. His excitement grew with every breath. There's the pattern! She was ready to throw away her relative safety, and she took responsibility for her cousin, Iris. Thus she'd helped him. He'd never heard about the foul witch ever since! Then she threw away her shielded place in the background and faced the Dark Lord, just to save Iris from Lucius' and Voldemort's hands. She worried about his safety. She stood up against Dumbledore's judgement and tried to protect the people she'd left behind, even against her father's will. Now she'd done everything to save Trelawney, and she never gave up her love for her aunt.
At Christmas, she told even Black that she couldn't make herself deny her relatives, not even her crazy aunt – Severus remembered. She went back repeatedly to Polla, even receiving scars and rashes, yet neither Lucius nor the Roux seemed to have known about her tours. She didn't tell them about the village, the balustrade, her aunt's vicious curses but she took a witch no one could recognize…. Why did she do it? Had she perchance made a deal?
It all began to make sense but her stubbornly defending him too. Severus couldn't understand that; he wasn't her relative! But if Sage wanted to hide Sybil with her aunt, that meant whatever that bright orb of flames Lucius described couldn't be fatal!
Severus fought his way out of bed and attacked his bookshelf. In the fourth tome he finally found what he was looking for, no wonder he'd had a hazy hunch he'd once came across something similar–
Forced Apparition can be spectacular for outside observation because in this case, teleportation bends the boundaries of the physical world without consent of the subject's will. But don't think it means only a harmless show and a game of lights! The compression on the subject's body is even greater than in the case of a "normal" Apparition, which in itself is an advanced form of magic. Such compression usually leads to the subject's life signs temporarily failing. Forced Apparition is considered powerful dark magic, overwhelming the subject's freedom of will. It uses the caster's magic, surpassing the average level of an Apparition and also overcoming the subject's magic as it is known in combat hexes.
He'd always found the description lame and lacking. Obviously, Yuri Bigaught had no clue how to write a description or definition worth reading; however, he was the only one who had bothered to publish a booklet about the current frontiers of magic and magical theory, which made it necessary for Severus to suffer through his words.
Whatever. He read the paragraph through and through several more times. There was everything: spectacular lights, a loud noise, in the end, two witches disappearing mid-air and the struggle against compression.
The subject's life signs temporarily failing – Merlin, did her aunt help her? Was she all right? Gods, he loved her, but she was such a ninny! She trusted her aunt because she loved her, and she presumed that made it mutual!
Severus shook his head with annoyance, hating her naïveté. She wasn't foreign to dark magic, but she was less practiced in it, even if she knew more theory than others who never tempered the effects by the balancing quality of Alchemy. She must have forgotten that the dark arts first separated the practitioners by reducing their ability to trust; they cut short the patience and heightened suspicions. Severus was familiar with those all. She shouldn't have trusted Polla!
But at least she was probably yet alive. Severus tiredly fell back on the floor among his books and exhaled with relief, scrubbing his face with both palms.
"Bloody hell, witch, you almost gave me a heart attack!"
He laughed about the idiocy of talking to her from the distance of an ocean and almost fifty years – it didn't really matter. Hope was, in his experience, the greatest luxury one could have in their life. But now, he didn't really know what he should even hope for. That Sage had tricked him into her plan to take Trelawney to Polla, using seduction as a tool, or that she trusted her aunt like some debutante on a ball for darkness and couldn't return on time because she got hurt?
Either way, he should find out what he was to do.
If he told his suspicions to anyone, the Dark Lord might hear about it. Lucius still wanted his money, and Severus doubted he would give up. Should he endanger Polla Poultron while she had her niece as a possible hostage? Not that any other would care… it was absurd! If he kept the secret and wouldn't move a finger, would Sage be safe with her aunt? Polla might have been too dark to trust her niece, but it was sure as hell that Severus Snape would never trust Polla Poultron after those rashes he'd seen!
If he decided to leave for France and help Sage escape, he might blow Trelawney's cover, and there was something more… oh yes, the Horcrux! Severus couldn't help but wheeze again. In a way, it was hysterically funny. No wonder he lost his shite by the park! Sweet sweaty Merlin in his cave! Could Cissy complain about Bella's cup at any less convenient a time?!
The endless flow of thoughts and his silent debate cut short with a profane growl of his stomach. He couldn't eat the last lunchtime, and he'd missed dinner in his own time, while, as it seemed, here he'd skipped breakfast. Severus packed away the books and lifted the stasis charm from the pantry.
There was cheese and fruit and cold meat along with a loaf of bread, all much more than what he'd been used to! She might have been gone for hours, lost in France, but she'd still left him the best cold lunch of his life – She thought of it! She thought about him coming back here, probably troubled and avoiding memories, so she sent a sign. It was more substantial than eating. Severus made sure not to wolf everything down and carefully re-applied the stasis charm. It would be a nice reminder later that she cared.
When Severus's thoughts turned back to his night, it was only too clear that he was supposed to contact Dumbledore and tell him about the cup. Heavens, it sounded as simple as sending an owl! Not that he had any idea where to turn to find him, and he was quite certain he wouldn't go and try to rob bloody Gringotts!
Perhaps he could leave him a message at the Hog's Head. Using Aberforth instead of an owl was convenient even if the old man hated it. Then he could leave for France. Although he doubted either of his masters would praise him for getting himself sacked….
Severus meticulously tidied after himself, and when he made Sage's bed, his fingers caught something soft and ticklish. Hair. With this unexpected treasure safely in his pocket, Severus reversed the spell, left behind the passers-by in London adjusting his robe, and Apparated to Hogsmeade, happy to have a few hours left before dawn. That should be enough.
He looked at the dangling trade sign above the Hog's Head for a long minute before he attempted to enter. He wondered about his decision to leave all promises behind by sending a message. It seemed feeble. While in his camp he couldn't be arsed to care about anything but Sage, this dangling sign now was a sinister reminder of reality. A reality that she should be a part of – Severus decided, and resolutely reached for the door.
It wasn't closed beyond what a silent Alohomora could open up, and soon he stood in the dark taproom, illuminated only by some forgotten embers in the bottom of the hearth. He heard silent noises of someone fumbling upstairs, and he cried out a greeting, not wishing to risk Aberforth's wrath.
At first, no one replied. Heavy thumps sounded behind the wall within a minute. There must have been a hidden staircase behind it, and the thumps joined with an annoying familiar voice:
"–– you to talk into my business–"
Severus hang his head as if the brick wall he virtually just ran into had given him a real smack on the head.
"Yes, being an obstinate donkey such as yourself, how would you think–" – Aberforth voice replied to the first one.
Elderly steps continued down the hidden staircase, time and again dulling the sounds of the bickering before Aberforth' voice sounded from close and clear:
"Don't even attempt to tell me what I should think or not! Save it for your blind lickspittle fools, I– Hey, I can see you there, you're not welcome in this establishment, have you forgotten?" the old inn keeper rounded the wall and stepped through a side door behind the counter. His wand drew a soft circle of light into the taproom.
"We must talk," – Severus said. He no longer wanted to leave a message. He waited resignedly for the other pair of boots to descend the staircase. He heard those clear enough.
"You've worn out your welcome here," – Aberforth grumbled - "especially at such an ungodly hour."
Albus Dumbledore finally turned up in the side-door and chided his brother: "Eh, why do you have to be so stubbornly uncivil? Let him in!" – He walked out from behind the counter and clapped his hands together. "Severus, what a nice surprise!"
Aberforth couldn't have it. "Albus, this is my place, and I told him–"
"I heard you, he heard you, so you obviously have said your piece," – the Headmaster turned back to his brother. "Now, let me entertain my guest!"
"Not at my place!" – Aberforth shook his head.
"My place, your place!" – Albus showed an impatient hand around. "Go count your goats!"
Severus knew his chances to ever quit his post just zipped down to zero, but he wasn't about to forsake his plans. Anyhow, he thought it better to step forward as long as he could.
"Sir, I must talk to you. I was preparing to send you a message before I leave, but this is surely better!"
Dumbledore searched his eyes. "You wish to leave? Well, I guess it must be timely. Indeed, it's almost dawn, and you cannot just go away from Hogwarts any more from what I hear…" – he looked at Severus above his half-moon spectacles, intentionally misunderstanding his words. "How did you manage an escape from the distinguished clutches of Madam Umbridge, if I may ask?"
Severus pulled his face into an impatient grimace. Here, he knew it wouldn't be easy. "I have left with permission, sir. Unfortunately, one of my students got hurt– but that's beside the point."
"Beside? Is Harry all right?"
"Yes," – Severus spat the word. "Should I remind you, sir, that nine hundred and ninety-seven more students belong to Hogwarts, and about the quarter of that number to my House?"
"Curious then that you seem as if you want to desert them," – the Headmaster lifted his eyebrows but then only gestured towards a table with an inviting smile. "Perhaps I've misunderstood you. What would you like to discuss, Severus?"
He would have answered before Aberforth if he wasn't preoccupied with all his inner voices profusely swearing for the moment. This was exactly what he expected. When he heard Albus Dumbledore's voice behind the wall, it became blatantly obvious just how much freedom he really had. Promises. Hell, he did love Lily, and she was indeed worth it all – up until someone else's life… until now… He was almost grateful for Aberforth's interruption, so his devastating thoughts couldn't get the better of him.
"Now, wait a moment. We are closed. Leave my tables alone, brother. It's bad enough I cannot get rid of you back there!"
"Oh, I see how much of your precious time you've spent cleaning up," – Albus kicked into the dust under the table, while with a nonchalant wave of his hand, he called a bottle of whisky and three short glasses from under the counter. Two glasses landed on the table in front of him with the bottle, but the third one, which the old wizard caught mid-air, and he beamed at his brother. "Of course, I would never force you to join us–"
"You're dreaming if you think to drink my best booze and send me about like a child," – Aberforth snatched the glass closest to his brother and snapped his finger. The bottle obediently poured for all three of them. "The lad needs some support anyway," – he grumbled before he sipped and nodded. "You'll regret your gall this time."
Severus began to question the wisdom of coming here in the first place. His only excuse was never dreaming the old man would be hiding mere miles from the school. So this wasn't the Ministry – he had to believe.
Alternating his gaze between the two old men, Severus counted his chances anew. The impulsive decision to leave everything to the dogs and run to France was still more than alluring, but Dumbledore's presence was just like a bucket of cold water showered on his head. He wanted to go, oh, yes he did, but the Slytherin awoke and asked where would that land him?
Leaving his post would infuriate both sides. Could it be of help to her? He wouldn't only betray the fragile trust he built up with Lily's son, he would also enrage the Order – not that they counted much beyond his honest wish to pay for his friend's death and unfortunately also to keep him from Azkaban, as the end of the last war showed only too clear. A short moment of lamenting his feelings, and Severus convinced himself that the risk was worth it. He could help Sage before the Order could find him and it may be worth a trial after…. The image of that bloody chair in the depth of the Ministry of Magic, with the magical ropes curling around his wrists and ankles gave him the chills. That's a river to cross later.
So what about the other side? The Dark Lord would never forgive him. Knowing his unfaithful luck the one sent after him would be Lucius himself, the only one with a chance to find out where he tried to go. He'd left traces behind and had no time to erase them. Sage was right about that, he took upon too much. Even if he found Sage before getting caught, he would lead the others on Trelawney's track, nullifying all she's been fighting for… don't deny my values… Sage's words echoed in his head. He would also lead the Dark Lord to her when he wanted to renew her involvement. If he uncovered her being alive and hiding the seer, she would die for her betrayal even before he would.
At the moment the safest bet seemed to somehow have the Order help her, even if Dumbledore would be hard to convince. Severus was ready to try.
"Sir, if you heard about the developments at Hogwarts, you might have also heard that we lost our History of Magic professor. Sage Moody didn't return after she attempted to hide Trelawney." Here, Severus believed it was a cautious start.
"Yes, Alastor mentioned he'd been waiting for her in vain when I met him on my errand in London–"
"Errand my–" – Aberforth chimed in, grumbling something unintelligible. "You keep searching for fairy tales while people die like in the old times!"
Severus tried to neglect him. "Headmaster, she didn't return to the school, and the Ostendere Potion does not show her anywhere in Britain." Dumbledore's eyebrows raising a tad on the mention of blood magic didn't escape his notice. "Lucius thinks she died, sir. I believe otherwise."
"Hmm, I'm sure her father would be glad to hear this. Do you have news to share about her whereabouts?"
"I doubt he is in the position to assist now, sir," – Severus couldn't help his features darkening with his mood. "To my best knowledge, Mad-Eye Moody broke all connections to his wife's family, and long ago. If his daughter tried to hide Sybil at her aunt's house, which is the only plausible scenario, he has no means to reach them. However, I have reason to believe that something went wrong, sir. She would have returned on time otherwise–"
"What makes you believe that?" The Headmaster cut in. "I have already warned you about her loyalty coming into question, Severus. Should we discuss the issue yet again? If Alastor is right about her darker tendencies, unfortunately, we have no assurance about her true intentions. What makes you believe she would have returned?"
Severus swallowed without intending to show his nerves. "Because she said so, sir," – it sounded so hollow even as he uttered the words. But she promised. More, she planned… for a fleeting second, he pondered the hell that would presumably unleash if he admitted to agreeing to a date… Hell, Salazar himself wouldn't save his unworthy hide if he ever– "I do believe her, sir. She needs help because she would have returned, and his father is not in the position to help her."
Dumbledore eyed him for long seconds before he seemed to have decided: "If you're right about this, surely we'd better keep the issue to ourselves, or we risk uncovering our dear Divination Professor's location, do we?" He waited for Severus' nod before he went on. "I will consider your news, Severus, and will act accordingly."
He stared at the Headmaster, this was not nearly enough!
"You consider? Sir, her life is probably in danger! Even if Sage has never submitted to her practices, her aunt is a dark witch! The whole issue about her loyalties is a phantasmagoria! You, sir, you were the one who taught in the first place that not all is dark, which is perceived as darkness. The grey line is not a narrow path rather a wide road of intents and purposes. Free will and choice and the blindness of codification! The methods–"
Aberforth snorting halted his abrupt speech. The old wizard watched him with pity and amusement, now he turned to his brother as he spoke:
"The lad still believes in your oh-so-superior knowledge and expects justice, no matter what I tell him."
Albus' eyes shone up with a strange glint. "Why would you mind that? Maybe I'm right," – he asked Aberforth as if they only continued a discussion from earlier.
"Maybe," – Aberforth repeated with enthusiasm. "This is the root of the problem, isn't it?! Now, why don't you tell him what you are up to?"
"Aberforth, I believe you misunderstand the situation," – Albus sounded as if he gave an announcement. "Severus here must have had a hard time in these past few days. Now, my boy, I am rather curious to know how you managed to keep your place in the storm when my staff gets dismissed as if it was raining Professors."
It was hard to keep up the façade and show himself calm when all the Headmaster questioned seemed so endlessly irrelevant. Severus would have been also glad if he understood what on earth Aberforth was just trying to imply, but as of yet he knew he needed to play by the Headmaster's rules, showing off his worth to gain station to be heard – that was at least the Slytherin way… He did his job well, he was worthy to ask.
"You gave me a duty, sir. I watched over the boy and his friends. Our new Headmistress decided to expel him for the stunt he and his busy gang of morons pulled with the Quibbler. In your absence, someone had to protect him – yet again – and we thought it best to resolve Trelawney's situation in the ensuing chaos."
"Right after you decided to blow up a part of this beautiful castle, Obliviate a fully authorized Ministry-witch, the present Headmistress of Hogwarts, so you could provide an escape for three errant Gryffindors!" – Dumbledore cried out not without amusement. "I'm proud of you, Severus, you've come a long way…." – he added with a twinkle in his eyes and sipped from his glass.
Fuck. Somehow most of the rules that he'd learned about life and deals just peeled of Albus Dumbledore. Two short but humiliating sentences and he had nothing in his hands to apply upon. Out of all the possible moments when Severus might have wanted to strangle the Headmaster, this was the first one when it seemed a realistic outcome of their cooperation. His teeth almost melted together he bit down so hard, and he took a calming breath through his nose. He hadn't lost his mind in the Dark Lord's presence, he would not lose it now!
"Have you had enough time to consider the situation, sir?" – he prompted instead.
"Well, as much as I believe you think the situation is urgent, it seems either dear Sage has already lost her life facing off her aunt who cheated her expectations to accommodate our Sybil, or she is captured together with her charge. Whichever is the issue, no rush would alleviate her predicament. However, we have a war going on here, which I am sure you haven't failed to take into account."
"I told you, lad," – Aberforth interjected.
"Will you please–" – Albus turned on him, now with impatience.
"Heaven forbid I stay in the way of your plotting, brother! It's merely one of your people to suffer or have died, not even a close relative, is she?"
"Are you sure you have no more duties to your goats? They seem lonely…." – the Headmaster asked back with mock wariness.
Severus couldn't give up trying to prompt the Headmaster into action. He wasn't the youngster anymore who once crawled at the great wizard's feet. It was only too obvious he couldn't rely upon Biblical goodness, so what was there to make a deal upon?
"Sir, have you perchance obtained any pressing news about our problems here that may explain your reluctance to act?"
"Oh, I am going to act, Severus, no need to question that," – the Headmaster's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he knew he'd probably gone too far. The same impudence in his other Master's presence would have already caused him to suffer under an Unforgivable at least twice.
"Actually, I think I've learned more than I have expected,"- the Headmaster went on. "My friend Horace remembers Tom asking about Horcruxes as a child, although he is annoyingly reluctant to share his honest memory. The memories I have obtained from the late Hepzibah Smith's house-elf show Hufflepuff's cup among Slytherin's locket, so I expect at least one more artifact from Ravenclaw as an intentional Horcrux somewhere in Hogwarts, and probably Tom's pet-snake."
"Intentional?" – Severus stuck on the word. "Is it possible to make a Horcrux unintentionally?"
The Headmaster pulled his mouth into a fleeting grimace of dissatisfaction before he smiled.
"Maybe, under exceptional circumstances. But theory aside, we should make certain about the number of the artifacts and their whereabouts before–"
"Well, if it's a cup, something of Ravenclaw's, and the snake, then we are still one Horcrux short, Headmaster," – Severus offered, hoping he finally got closer. He had some reservations about sharing belatedly the Prophecy he heard, but whatever the price was to rescue Sage, he was ready to pay it. "I heard it from Mira Rasical's phantom, which I found attached to a Seerschmuck Malfoy stole from the Coquinnes that we needed to defeat the Dark Lord four more times before we overthrew him. She also suggested that her cousin should not trust in her blood relatives" – he rephrased what he'd heard to his benefit without a qualm.
The Headmaster looked surprised only for a second, then his expression turned thoughtful.
"Did you mention Mira Rasical? The young witch, Heloïse Coquinne's grandchild, who sadly died from the hands of Jules Leroy less than a year ago?"
"The very one, sir."
"And perchance could she or her phantom, as you suggest, contact the Seer of the ancient artifact?"
"I have no doubt she did just that, sir."
"Outstanding!"
Severus waited with mild impatience for the Headmaster to explain.
"Well, the magic you refer to, Severus, you must have contemplated yourself how unique it is! With your old inclinations towards the Dark Arts, surely you've recognized that darling Sage is much longer ahead on that road than we would ever have suspected! She not only imprinted whatever piece of her late cousin into the artifact, but she also must have added one more layer to recognize you, or Mira must have had some will on her own! You tell me, Severus, just how peculiar this is! I have not expected this level of dark magic since she'd decided to leave her aunt Polla behind!"
Recognizing his mistake, Severus paled. He only wanted to offer information to make Dumbledore move on the matter. This wasn't the outcome he sought.
"Are you reluctant to rescue her because of her talent in the dark arts?"
"I am not reluctant, my boy. I'm only doing what I have to. It's nothing short of what she'd agreed to when she'd joined us. However, your exceptional ability to overhear Prophecies makes good news this time indeed. I can't wait to show all the memories I've gathered to Harry. He will have sufficient time to find all we're looking for."
Severus' brows ran together.
"Potter?! Whatever does he have to do with any of this?"
"Why, Severus, he is the Chosen One. He has the most to do about it all. We are merely assisting him on his journey."
"Headmaster, with all due respect, the brat is just a child with all the talent of a flobberworm on a broomstick! You cannot believe he would defeat the Dark Lord before it is too late–" for Sage, he wanted to say, but he thought better of it and said "for us all" – instead.
"You underestimate Harry as per usual" – Dumbledore sighed. "Never mind. Now I want you to–"
"Fly around the Moon!" – Aberforth quickly offered.
His brother turned to him. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, you certainly should, but you heard me."
Albus shook his head. "So, Severus, I would like you–"
"To step dance!" – Aberforth cut in again.
"Is there something you would like to say?" – Albus turned to his brother once more.
"I'm merely pointing out that you're acting like an idiot again," – Aberforth gestured his brother to continue, but his words must have been disturbing enough for the Headmaster to argue:
"I'm sure I will not be surprised by your opinion, so why don't you just spit out what's on your heart and let us then proceed, hm?"
"Your attitude as always," – Aberforth readily explained. "You are preoccupied with your little riddles to prove your intellectual superiority, making a child follow you blindly into whatever danger, while here's a grown man willing to prevent that, and you don't even give him a second thought, leaving your own people to their fate!"
"Oh, rest assured, I gave a lot of thought to the matter–"
"Perhaps still not enough," – Aberforth deemed. "You wager on an immature child's dubious abilities to save the world whenever he may or may not be ready to do so. All the while risking the lives of all those on the lines. Whatever for? Are you preparing a child sacrifice, or is your cause just still too thirsty and dry as it is yet? How much blood do you need to finish up again?"
"I was not the one who made the choice, Aberforth. Harry has the power Tom never knew. Love is the strongest magic, don't you forget that. Harry will be only too happy to finally release his unintended fate if we get to that point. I only have to put him into position to–"
"Unintended fate," – Severus mumbled.
"You're thinking too much of yourself!" – Aberforth cried out. "You're messing with Fate, you're messing with Death–"
The Headmaster heatedly argued with his brother, but Severus heard none of it.
"Horcrux," – he mumbled on, more disturbed by the second. "Unintended. Fate. Headmaster, is it possible to make a Horcrux of a living being? Like a child?" – he asked suddenly aloud, just a little cringing.
"I never suggested anything like that!" – the Headmaster quickly replied and turned back to his brother, but Aberforth lifted his palm to stop whatever flow of words.
"But you haven't denied it either, have you?" – he looked over at Snape before he pressed on. "Answer, brother, is it possible or not?"
"Well, perhaps in an indirect way…" – Albus admitted, opening his palms sideways. "It would never be a conventional Horcrux, so to speak."
"Would it be a connection of minds, sir? Interconnected feelings? Flashes of each other's reality, or maybe shared or influenced dreams?" – Severus asked on with ever-growing alarm.
Dumbledore nodded. "Along those lines, yes, even if their cores would not be the same," – he amended.
Severus stared at the Headmaster through narrowed eyes, not even registering when his mouth fell agape.
"To destroy a Horcrux, one should destroy the container," – he finally recalled in a low voice.
"In a manner of speaking, I believe it is inevitable," – the Headmaster nodded, his eyes only showing his sadness.
Severus pushed himself from the table and aimlessly walked to the nearest wall and back. Aberforth leaned back on his chair with a knowing hint of a smirk.
"You cheated me! – Severus burst out. "You betrayed everything I've worked for, all my trust!"
"Severus, please–"
"No! You made me lie for you, fight for you, put myself in mortal danger for you, you want me to watch others die, telling me I cannot save them, all just so you can raise that kid for slaughter?!"
"Ay, the lad cannot stomach better child sacrifice than necromancy" – Aberforth tutted. "And this is the one you accused of darkness? But, brother, are you sure you are in your right mind?"
Albus sighed deeply.
"Severus, if I knew a possible way to avoid the worst, I wouldn't be able to tell you for obvious reasons. You already know much more than it's comfortable with your frequent séances with Tom. As for your question, yes, Harry's death seems inevitable, but if it should happen from Tom's hand, there might be a chance for him to survive," – he shot an annoyed side-glance to his brother, but Aberforth remained nonchalant. "Of course, all our struggles and hopes are for naught if Harry can't destroy the Horcruxes first."
Bastard! Good for nothing, bloody bastard! He didn't save Lily and he wouldn't save her son! Severus felt freezing cold in his head, sobering even in the throes of white hot rage. Sage. At least he should find a way to force the old man's hand and then stop this! Potter wasn't in imminent danger, so first Sage. Then he wanted to see McGonagall turning into a banshee when he told this about her pup! At this point both his masters seemed deranged, so why not play his eager part?
"Although it would be a spectacular attempt at suicide to slay Nagini by the Dark Lord's feet," Severus began, deciding to leave Potter out from the equation as long as he could, "at least the location is quite obvious. So is the cup's. I believe I know its exact place at the moment. So there are only two questions to remain then:" – Severus looked boldly into the Headmaster's eye. "What do you expect the Ravenclaw artifact to be, sir? And would you help Sage Moody if there weren't any more Horcruxes in Potter's way any more?"
Despite his previous boldness, Dumbledore didn't show outrage. His face was instead guarded and thoughtful.
"Well, Severus, I have to say that your pragmatism is almost as impressive as your competence. I have yet to have a single idea of the cup. I can also see that there's yet again a witch whose fate seems exceptionally important to you. Are you preparing to make an agreement of sorts, my boy?"
Severus swallowed hard and tried to hold his hands steady not to show a twisted V. He wanted no agreement, deal or anything to hinder him. A "deal" last time felt as if he had to pay with his life. Now wasn't that different if it meant he needed to destroy the Dark Lord's snake…He would have died for a dead witch just a year ago. Now, he may do the same but for one alive. Life was definitely getting better.
"What do you think the Ravenclaw artifact would be, sir?" – Severus finally asked again without acknowledging any hint about a bargain. Back to his old plan now. To win the war and be free to choose or die trying. At least he would try to force Dumbledore's hand until he could move without endangering her.
"I would ask Filius if I had the chance," – the Headmaster's voice sounded contemplative. "The only famous artifact connected to his House is perhaps Rowena's lost diadem. Of course, we don't know anyone who knew about it in these last centuries; however, I believe Tom had the time and resources to find and hide it somewhere in the castle. I always wondered what he thought to achieve by his last visit at Hogwarts…."
"Now a diadem, lost for centuries?" – Aberforth cried out aloud. "Well, good luck with your next riddle. That's the only thing to keep your sorry ass moving anyway!"
"Thank you," – Albus replied with a mocking smile. "As much as I'm sure about your sarcasm, I will take your well-wishing by face value this time. And as for the snake" – he turned back to Severus, "surely, it must be the last to destroy. Now, will you tell me where you are expecting to find the cup?"
"It's in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts," – Severus supplied. "I need to think about a way to obtain it. But, of course, after my own dismissal from the school, you surely see no benefit of my continued services here. So when will you leave for France?" – he added the question by sheer boldness.
The Headmaster laughed. "On the contrary, Severus, Harry needs your active protection now more than anytime before, while I find a way to prepare him to get the cup."
Oh, not that, we don't have as much time!
"Prepare him?! Headmaster, the boy is but a child! He–"
"Oh, the lad is still naïve, isn't he?" – Aberforth told his brother. "You have never been one to dirty your hands, have you, brother? Don't even consider your own abilities or your hard-earned privilege to move undetected! No! The great Albus Dumbledore would never lower himself to rob a bank!"
"You think I couldn't?" – Albus's eyes shone up with rare mischief and challenge, showing him the Gryffindor he actually was.
"You wouldn't dare," – Aberforth reflected his expression. "It is way too logical a choice for your taste."
"I believe it is only the rite of passage the Chosen One should walk–" – Albus argued, still, but his brother already had him.
"Robbing a bank, you say? So what is it you're preparing your sacrificial lamb for? I thought those were supposed to be… erm… pure?"
To Severus' greatest surprise, Albus Dumbledore agreed to the plan. He would never underestimate Aberforth in his life, be it short or – well, even shorter as it now looked like, he would never ever make that mistake!
The Headmaster was to rob a bank – and while it sounded novel enough, Severus couldn't find it entertaining when thinking about a diadem which was mostly famous about being lost for a thousand years and he needed to find. Goddamn Albus Dumbledore, goddamn the Dark Lord and damn it all! He wasn't supposed to be here anymore! He didn't want this! He couldn't achieve as much as he wished to have.
Severus' short fit lasted till he was four or five steps from the Hogwarts gate, and he realized that the sun was already up and he wasn't supposed to show himself. Even if receiving his dismissal had never been more alluring, the sneaky, ever cunning Slytherin mind in his head already worked overtime.
If he risked everything and freed Sage before anyone caught him, all they could do would go hiding between moments. They could stretch a second to a lifetime of shame, and he would force her to give up on her perceived duties. Because no matter how much Severus contemplated the situation, with two deranged leaders at a war he couldn't see them both surviving if he ran headfirst after his heart like a drugged up Gryffindor.
If Severus shed a silent tear in desperation or not, no one was to know. His Disillusioned form flew up to the East side-tower and hurried down to the dungeons through tapestry doors, backstairs, and side-corridors. All the way, he was on edge, thinking about anyone to help.
"Chubby!" – he called out for his elf as soon as his quarter's door shut behind him.
It took longer than a minute before the house-elf appeared. Chubby bowed to his Master, and Severus's face fell. The little fellow's tablecloth was ragged and dirty, his eye yellow and purple, and his stance showed a broken and desperate creature on the verge of dismay.
Severus jumped to the little friend, and for the first time, he tried to touch and hold him straight. He would never have expected it from a creature so imbued with magic to look so fragile.
"Chubby, what happened to you?"
"Chubby is sorry, Master, Chubby is worthless elf… so so very bad elf…. Chubby couldn't do what Master asked," – the house-elf sniffed, hanging his head.
"No, Chubby, it's not your fault. I should have called you sooner," – Severus whispered with guilt. "I forbid you to punish yourself. This is my fault."
"Chubby is sorry, Master," – the elf sniffed again, peeking up at him. "Chubby knows Mistress Sage is important. Chubby would do anything to find her!"
"I found out where she is," – Severus told the elf. "I should have called you sooner, but I hoped–" – he fell silent when he realized there was nothing he could say to the elf which would have made his neglect less painful to the creature.
"I apologize, Chubby," – Severus whispered instead with feeling. "I was a bad Master to you. I didn't think about you as I should have. I used you like others use me, but you deserve so much better! You're an exceptional elf, Chubby, and it would never happen again, I promise you," – he looked the elf in the eye. "Can you forgive me?"
"Chubby cans, Master," – the little creature said in a high-pitched voice in his surprise, smiling, possibly by embarrassment. "Chubby wasn't cross with Master. Master is good."
Severus rolled his eyes. "I wish!" – he sighed and stood to get some dittany. He only spoke when he was already tending to his elf. "Where have you been?"
"Chubby went everywhere in Hogsmeade, then Auror Moody's place in London, then Iris Dubois's place in London, then the hidden place Master faced evil at Christmas. Dogman's elf does not like intruders, but Chubby looked around anyway, even if were-man roared angrily. Next, Chubby stole into Lucius Malfoy's place, but house-elf magic protected their rooms, Chubby had to fight it. Then Chubby tried to get through the water to see Mistress' old homes when Master called."
"Have you been to France?" – Severus stared at the elf.
"No, Master, Chubby was by the sea when heard Master. Should have Chubby crossed the water already for Master to do good?"
Severus finished tending to the elf's wounds, and he was now divesting his pillow off the pillowcase to refresh the elf's appearance. "Here," – he offered the pillowcase and waited for the house-elf to change out of the torn rag.
"I tried to find her too, and I recently heard she might be still alive but probably hurt at her aunt's castle. How hard would it be for you to find such a place if I told you about the witch who lives there and the approximate location? Could you do it by yourself, or would you need help? Tell me honestly!"
Chubby sniffed again. He looked more taken by his Master's kindness than sad or devastated this time.
"It would be easier, Master. Witches have protective wards. Chubby should get through. If witch has house elves, Chubby should defeat them and get to Mistress Sage before they report so witch could exorcise Chubby from property. But it's easier, Master, if Chubby knows where to begin," – the elf admitted.
"So it would be an issue of the wards and the possible defenders. What would help against them? Would you need a weapon, a potion? I won't send you out without my protection again, Chubby."
"Chubby has Master, that's an elf's greatest protection," – the house-elf replied. "If Master can give something that belongs to Mistress Sage, Chubby could use its magic to pull him to her."
Severus stared at the elf, and his fingers wandered into his pocket to touch the small handful of hair he collected at his safe place. He felt reluctant to give them over.
"I wanted to use these to make sure she was alive," – he hesitantly said. "Do you need it all?"
"The more Chubby has, the easier it would be," – the elf admitted, with flagging ears. "Master doesn't think Mistress Sage is alive?"
"I know many think she is not, but I cannot believe she's gone, Chubby. It doesn't make sense." Severus stood and walked around the room. He wasn't prepared for the elf's ability to make him talk about his fears and regrets.
It would be worthless to see her life's dot pulsing on a piece of parchment while he knew his elf risked everything to get her. Would he just sit there and watch? It was even insane to imagine!
"Here, take it all," – he offered the hair still with a hint of reluctance. "You are looking for Polla Poultron's home somewhere in Northern France, possibly close to the German border. She has a stronghold there with an outer wall for protection, probably more than one house elf, and possibly a demiguise," – he suddenly remembered to an old conversation at Heloïse's table. "I heard she is a powerful witch, who practices dark magic, so be careful, Chubby," – he warned the elf. "I order you to behave under any circumstances in a manner that ensures your safety. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Master, thank you, Master," – the elf nodded.
"All right. You will probably recognize someone else, too, when you find Sage. I order you not to tell anyone you know her or recognize her. Is this still clear?"
Now the elf seemed less self-assured, but he still nodded. "Yes, Master. Chubby recognizes not whoever he sees."
"That's right. Now you should go and be of service to her."
"How should Chubby do that, Master?"
Severus swallowed. He knew he shouldn't say the next words, but he couldn't help himself. "If she's in trouble, take her home. But don't let anyone see!"
"Master cans trust Chubby. Chubby is a good elf. Will ask Mistress Sage if in trouble and tells Master is awaiting."
"No!" – Severus roared sooner than he had time to think about his meaning. It still felt unjust. He couldn't go and sending a house elf seemed the least he could do, perhaps even less. "I'm as good as dead for her, Chubby. I cannot do a thing for her. You just go and make yourself useful there, will you?"
In the big ball-like eyes, Severus saw more understanding than he was ready for.
"Chubby understands, Master. Chubby cans do."
On Severus' nod, the house elf disappeared with a pop, while his Master sank into his armchair and buried his face in his hands.
Whatever he decided after Christmas, now he felt insignificant and way too lonely to achieve. Discipline – he reminded himself. No better moment to sink into self-pity old chap – he went on, berating himself, how utterly useful you will prove yourself if you do. With a sigh, he cast Tempus. The Great Hall was probably already filling up with all the students, and he had never felt himself more useless in his pathetic life.