Harry

The first sign that something is horribly wrong is my nightmare. Not a nightmare, but the nightmare. I still have bad dreams, but not like this. Not of places I've never been, watching out of eyes that aren't mine.

Only I have been there, haven't I? I took almost the same path he did, moving from person to person. Though he was releasing the animals from their cages, and I was adding a hidden lock. He stroked his finger down Bellatrix's face like you would a lover. But he doesn't love her. He doesn't love anything.

He's excited about the chaos she'll cause.

He's ready for the blood she'll spill.

Jokes on him, isn't it?

I already put a collar around his pet psychopath.

I wake up sweating and shivering at the same time. My skin is clammy, my heart is racing, and the woman against my chest moans in her sleep. It's not a nice moan. It's the sound she made lying on that drawing-room floor, blood dripping from her arm, twitching through the after-affects of torture.

The second sign is the charm dangling from around Hermione's neck. Its chain is shorter than the amulet that holds our crest. It lays at the top of her sternum, whereas the necklace I gave her is long enough that it currently rests on the mattress. She's asleep, and bare, and whimpering in a way that brings tears to my eyes. The charm is vibrating against my fingers where I cup her breast in my hand.

Even when I'm asleep, I can't stop touching her.

That bloody charm, alerting that keywords are being spoken on our listening devices, is vibrating constantly.

An overwhelming joyous feeling spreads throughout my body, but the happiness isn't mine. It's his. Distorted and warped, as if through a filter. It tastes bitter in my mouth, like bile crawling up my throat.

It's a feeling I'd hoped never to feel again.

"Hermione!" I hiss, shaking her awake. As soon as she opens her eyes, the out of body sensation disappears. It doesn't just flee, it winks out of existence, as if it was never there to begin with. The connection, if that's what it was, ends with her consciousness.

Then my communication mirror goes off.

I fall from the bed in my haste to get free of the covers.

Hermione looks around with wide eyes, propped up on one elbow and shoving her hair out of her face with her hands.

"Wha—"

"Get up!" I cut her off, already yanking my jeans on over my bare arse. "He's done it. Azkaban."

My glasses and holster fly at me from the side table, and I let them hover in the air while I pull a shirt over my head.

"How do you know that?" she demands.

Her legs are off the bed now, and she's hastily trying to use the still vibrating charm to unlock the spelled journal.

"Dreamt it," I say harshly, the words coming out clipped.

Her jaw goes slack and her eyes widen in horror, her hand unconsciously lifting to her forehead to rub at the scar she doesn't have. I don't have to be able to read her mind to know the thoughts running through it.

Her aura presses against me, and she sees the dream herself. Probably dreamt it herself, and didn't realize what it was, never having shared one of those nightmares with me in live-time before.

I turn to flee, but Hermione's gentle cry of "Harry, wait!" stops me in my tracks. I freeze in the doorway of our bed-chambers, keeping my back to her. I listen to the soft sounds of bare skin sliding against smooth sheets, then her feet hitting the floor.

"Harry," she says again, coming around until she can cup my face in her hands. She touches me like she would a startled horse, soothing it to calmness. My eyes close automatically, pulling her close to my body and feeling her warmth sink into my soul.

"I'm not supposed to be dreaming about him anymore," I whisper.

"I know," she agrees quietly. "But it was different this time, yes?"

Was it?

She pushes a teensy bit, just a smidge, against our bond, the feel of her brightening in my head before retreating to her usual glow.

It was.

"Yes," I confirm, then close my eyes to better remember it.

"Tell me how," she demands, gentle and firm all at once.

"It was...diluted, somehow. Like I wasn't getting the full dose."

Hermione, brilliant, amazing Hermione, nods her head in agreement. She's seen every nightmare, every vision I've ever had. She's gritted her teeth and sat through the Harry Potter horror show, analyzing every interaction I've ever had with the so-called Dark Lord. She knows up close and personal what it feels like when that monster is in my head.

"Does your scar hurt?"

Both of our communication devices are buzzing now, but I ignore them for the woman in front of me.

She already knows the answer.

"No," I confirm. "I have a headache," I tell her, and she immediately shakes her head, dismissing it. I always have a headache. A side effect, she thinks, of having a Horcrux in my brain for so long. And maybe popping back in time so often. Third-year, apparently, she got them pretty bad too. Of course, she was going back hours, and I'm being thrown back into the timeline, reborn.

"I stopped getting his echo, as soon as you opened your eyes," I tell her. It feels important somehow.

She smiles at me tenderly, not showing any of the fear that's coursing through my body.

"That's because I won't let that bloody bastard have you," she growls, before she lifts on her toes and kisses me for all she's worth. Power surges through my fingers. My toes dig into the carpet. I could fuel a thousand Patronuses from the feel of this kiss alone.

The floo bell starts to ring.

"Go get Ron and Nev," she says with a final caress, then shoves me out of the doorway.

I flee barefoot from the room, and run for the boys' dormitory taking the steps two at a time.

I thought the connection to Voldemort was gone with the removal of the Horcrux. Broken. But maybe when you've been through what Riddle and I have together, you don't need to share a body to be linked.

Or maybe, the Horcrux was never the cause for the connection to begin with. Either way, this isn't good.

It stopped the minute Hermione opened her eyes though, and that must mean something too. He couldn't possess me before, when I was thinking about the people I loved.

She saved me again, as usual. She saved us, since she's stuck with me.

I burst into the fifth year dorm, uncaring about waking up the entire room.

"We need you," I bark, walking first to Ron, then Neville, shaking them awake. I rummage through Neville's trunk, throwing a pair of jeans at him.

"W-w-what?" Ron stutters mid snore.

Ron opens his mouth to snap at me, but as soon as he gets a good look at my face, his eyes widen instead and he hurries from his bed. Dean and Seamus sit up blurrily, asking half-hearted questions I ignore. Nev scrambles awake without a word, and I turn and run back the way I came, hoping Hermione will be dressed by now.

I stop in the common room, gathering my thoughts. There's nothing we can do. Nothing. They're already back at the Manor, the breakout has already been completed. All we can do is hope to gather information on what they plan to do next. I picture the trunk in my head, filled with everything I don't want the world to know, wrap it in chains and add another lock. I don't mind having another way to spy on him. But I won't let him get to Hermione.

"Toujours l'amour," I whisper when I reach our door.

I skid to a halt in the sitting area to find Remus and Sirius striding into our dorm, the vanishing cabinet expanded to its full height in the kitchen.

"About time you woke up," Sirius barks at me, half-serious, half exasperated. "We were calling forever."

Remus has the wireless in his hand, and I can hear chaos coming through the speaker.

"I was too busy dreaming about the breakout," I say harshly, and Remus only stops for a heartbeat before continuing his walk to the couch, placing the wireless in the middle of the living room table. I take a deep breath and try to calm my runaway nerves. "I dreamt the breakout while it was happening."

Sirius's eyes go dark, his face shutting down to a worried scowl.

"Did...that happen last time?" Sirius asks, running his thumb and forefinger down over his beard.

I dip my chin in a single sharp nob, but the inner door to our suite slams open before I can answer.

"What happened?" Ron demands, looking around with horror in his eyes. He's still in his pyjamas, but is armed to the teeth. His broadsword is even across his back. "Is it my parents?" Both of his wands are in his hands, and he's already half crouched in a position of defence. Nev appears next, having taken the time to put real clothes on, and he holds a wand and a blade in his palms

"Azkaban," I say roughly, and a horrifying yelp through the wireless grabs all of our attention.

"Stop whimpering, you fool!" Riddle hisses, and rage slides down my spine.

The whimpering doesn't stop. It only takes on a painful, half-smothered tone.

"My Lord," Lucius Malfoy intones, deep and slow and seductive. "No other wizard alive could have achieved what you did this night. You are remarkable."

"Yes," Riddle croons, his pride in himself evident. "I am. Never forget it, Lucius. Never again let your loyalty stray. From this night on, let no man doubt my power. I am, and always will be, twice the wizard as Harry Potter!"

I think I'm going to be sick.

Eight wands whip in the direction of our secondary door, when the one that leads into the hallway bursts open. Every person in the room falls into a fighting stance, Hermione on one knee by the living room table with her weapons in her hands.

Draco tumbles into the room, Notte a heartbeat after him.

"I felt Bellatrix trip the wards!" Draco pants, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy," Ron scowls, relaxing from his defensive position. Draco, who is huffing after having obviously run here, gives Ron an obscene hand gesture. Notte doesn't say a word, simply shuts the door behind him. Draco sits in one of the reading chairs on the other side of the table, Theo standing beside and leaning on the arm.

I don't think I've heard the boy say more than five words in all of our acquaintance.

"Did anyone expect him to move this fast?" Draco asks, taking in our grim expressions.

I shake my head no, and Hermione hands him one of the journals, flipping to the point in time where Riddle was informed about the Bonding announcement in the paper.

Draco whistles under his breath.

Riddle was furious when the announcement went out yesterday. It's a damn good thing they didn't set the alert to my name, because it would have been going off for hours. Hermione has done little since but stare at that damn journal, reading through the outbursts and conversations. Draco pulled Missy out of the house to keep her with him and out of harm's way. But no, we had no idea the bond would spur him into attacking Azkaban. He railed against the ministry, and over the rucked up importance of Bonded Mates, and sounding so much like Mrs. Black as to be disconcerting, complained about our muddy blood beseeching the name of Magic. But then all of his ranting stopped. As if he put a taboo on the subject.

Now we know why.

I'm coiled tight as a drum, arms crossed in front of my chest, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Hermione reaches over and turns up the volume of the speaker again, but there still isn't much going on other than whimpering and tears.

Ron, realising that we aren't going to fight, at least not at the moment, goes and sits next to Hermione, leaning his elbows on his knees. Nev takes the other reading chair. I stay on my feet. I don't think I could sit right now if you put a wand to my head and forced me.

"Why is it taking so long, Lucius?!" Riddle demands in a harsh tone, his impatience with his servant causing goosebumps to break out over my skin. I recognize that tone all too well.

"Shit," Draco says harshly. It's a tone he recognizes too. "Has anyone heard my mum?"

"Not yet," Remus says.

Hermione meets her second's eyes over the length of the table. "I'm sure she's fine," she attempts to assure him. He gives a sharp nod, and Theo grips his fingers.

"I require Severus," Riddle says, voice light, despite the venom in every word.

"My Lord," Lucius starts, and Merlin I wish this had a video feed like a telly. Lucius stutters, then goes on. "It is only the first week of classes, my Lord. It might be...difficult for Severus to—"

He cuts off harshly.

"Indeed," Riddle croons. "He is a faithful servant, and I have a need for him. I'm sure you too, Lucius, would like to speak with him. Draco is at Hogwarts, is he not? I'm sure you are anxious to get an update on your blood traitor brat."

I feel like we're all holding our breath, before Lucius says, "Yes, my Lord," in a low and humbled tone.

The pause between comment and response is significant, and I look worriedly at Draco, as Theo takes a seat at Dracos feet. Like a guard dog.

"So we had no warning this was going to happen?" Ron asks. "I mean we knew it was coming, obviously, but I thought it would be months still."

Hermione and Remus both shake their heads.

"We kept the wireless on when we went to bed," Remus says. "Put it on the side table. We woke up when they made it back to the manor. Realizing the prisoners still couldn't do magic even away from the Dementors sent everyone into a panic. From what we've gathered, You-Know-Who went to Azkaban by himself and broke into the main wards to steal their wands. He was forced to go back for help, when the death eaters he was freeing weren't able to apparate themselves. I looked through the night's events that were caught on the buttons—"

"Me too," Hermione adds.

Sirius continues the story.

"I didn't see any mention of Azkaban or the prison. So it sounds like, in a fit of pique over being outshined by Harry, he decided to free the Death Eaters without telling anyone."

My head is starting to ache, the pressure building behind my eyes. Without a word Hermione rises from her perch on the couch, moving to the bedroom then reappearing with a potion in her hands.

Sirius watches me with knowing eyes as I drink the headache potion provided by my wife. She touches my head, running her thumb over my brow and down my nose. Her other hand rests on my heart, and I cover it with my own and give her a squeeze before she resumes her spot on the couch.

Someone is crying through the speaker, a pitiful wail that makes my skin crawl with the desperation pulled through their vocal cords.

"I can't feel it. Why can't I feel it?" someone wails. A man. A second person shushes them, offering some meaningless comfort.

"They should be able to use their powers by now," a voice says that I don't recognize. "I could perform magic within minutes of leaving the prison. Mind you, I wasn't locked up for years, but still…"

"Thank you, Amycus," Riddle says sharply, and the talking immediately falls silent, leaving the whimpers and wails to fill the space.

"So the Carrow twins are there," I say, and Hermione makes another note in her book. She turns down the volume on the wireless enough that the crying isn't overwhelming.

"Should we get Dumbledore?" I ask, and am rewarded with half a dozen different facial expressions. Shock wars with resignation, and I feel the burden of leadership heavy on my chest. I flick my thumb across my wand handle, ready to summon the Headmaster with a Patronus. To my surprise, it's Remus who shuts the suggestion down.

"If Snape has his head about him, he'll have let Dumbledore know he was summoned before he left. We knew this day was coming. We just didn't realize it would come so soon."

Thank goodness we got there first. That's all I can think about. In trying to avoid much of the damage Riddle caused last time, I've set things at a much quicker pace. Thank goodness Azkaban has been rendered useless to him.

"How long do you think it will take for Professor Snape to arrive?" Hermione asks the room.

Remus rubs at his eyes.

"It depends. If he can floo, immediately. When I worked here, only the Headmasters office had floo travel. We want You-Know-Who to have access to Snape, but if it's too easy, he'll suspect a trap. It's too far to apparate. He'll probably portkey. If he updates the headmaster first—"

A gong rings out over the speaker.

"Someone tripped the wards," Draco says. "It happens whenever anyone without Malfoy magic enters the premises, whether they have ward access or not."

It won't take him that long at all apparently.

Hermione looks impressed.

"Teach me how to do that tomorrow," she tells him quickly, before turning back up the volume.

Sirius is pacing the length of our living area, his hands entwined behind his back. He gives me a tight smile, then goes back to looking at his feet, ears straining to listen to the wireless.

"My Lord," a woman says prettily, and Draco's shoulders perk up. "Mum," he says under his breath. "Severus has arrived."

"You sent for me, my Lord," comes the familiar drawl of Severus Snape.

He sounds curious, but not subservient. Demure, yet apathetic. Whereas every other follower we've heard has been on the verge of grovelling, Snape is almost aloof. The Potions Master is playing a dangerous game.

"I have a need of you, my friend."

"I see you've had a productive night," says Snape, and if I close my eyes, I can almost see him standing there, his nose in the air, his hands up the opposite sleeve, feigning interest in the baker's dozen of recently freed death eaters. "Congratulations, of course, on your accomplishment."

If Riddle can hear the sarcasm in Snape's voice, he doesn't comment on it.

"Thank you, Severus. It was quite a feat. The Dementors have tired of their meaningless existence as mere guards and are awaiting our orders."

Hermione's eyes go wide, and she makes a note in her Moldy-Voldy binder.

"Unfortunately, our friends seem to be having some...difficulties," and if his sneer were any more pronounced, he'd hiss the word out, like the snake he resembles. "Recovering their strength. I'd like you to fix it."

The word now is heard, if not said.

"Which is why we sent for you."

"As always, my Lord, I strive to be of service. I will do what I can. But I am not a healer. Perhaps we'd best fetch one from St. Mungos."

"I have faith in you, old friend."

Shivers run down my spine. The words were all kindness. The threat behind them makes my blood run cold.

Snape hears it too. His pause is heavy, weighed down with menace and peril.

"I strive to be worthy of it." I picture him pivoting on his heel, setting to the task that's been assigned to him. "What has been done, Narcissa?"

Mrs. Malfoy clears her throat before she speaks, her voice strong and clear.

"Nothing, Severus. We had thought with time away from the Dementors influence that their magic would return, but it has not." There's a whimpering, then "shhh, Bella," Mrs. Malfoy coos, like one would to soothe a child.

Conversation falls to a stand still as Pepperup potions are distributed and an Evenerate is cast here or there.

Nothing helps.

As the tension rises on that side of the wireless, it crests in waves on our side. Sirius is still pacing and shakes his head in the negative whenever Remus asks him to sit. My friends don't speak, but make eye contact every few seconds before breaking away, gazes flicking to me and back to each other. Communicating their unease and wariness through looks alone.

The wailing through the wireless only picks up in pitch as they realize something is seriously wrong.

"I don't understand. The animagus Black had little difficulty accessing his magic once he fled the Dementors. He was even able to use his magic while under their care. He could transform. He could…"

His voice trails off, and panic and fear grip my stomach.

"Muggle," Riddle hisses, and it's vile. Goosebumps break out across my skin.

"They've run the diagnostic," Hermione mumbles.

"Bella, pet. Come here."

I lock my knees as the pressure builds behind my eyes.

"Master, please!" Bellatrix begs, and Hermione flinches at the sickly sweet desperation in her voice. "I can't feel it. It is gone. Please, Master, Help me!"

Hermione locks eyes with me over the back of the couch, her chest hitching in rapid little pants.

"Silence," Riddle snaps, and Bellatrix's begging cuts off as abruptly as if Riddle stole his servant's voice. "I grow tired of all the snivelling.

Nausea roils in my stomach and my hands begin to sweat. I glance over the back of the couch, to see Hermione has Ron's hand in a death grip.

"Do you think they'll figure it out tonight?" Nev asks.

Do you think he'll see what you've done?

I have no idea. I hope so though. I wish I could see his face when the death blow lands and he realizes we've stolen his strongest allies. I need it to be done and the consequences clear so that we can move on to the next part of the plan. Whatever that may be.

"Legilimens," Riddle hisses.

Sounding louder from the silence that blankets her surroundings, Bellatrix starts to scream. It's a keening, painful sound, like nails on a chalkboard leaving a trail of blood and fingerprints behind.

Someone, or several someone's, are breathing hard enough that the noise has a debasing obscene quality as it comes through the wireless.

The sound cuts off so abruptly the lack of sound makes me jump.

"She's been Obliviated," Riddle snarls.

There's rustling coming through the speaker.

"They all have," Snape agrees. There's a woman snivelling in the background. "Interesting choice on who you freed," he adds conversationally. I can almost hear their robes as together, they glide from person to person, delving into their minds.

"She asked, and I am a merciful Lord. Every pureblood freed is another who owes their loyalty to our cause."

"Umbridge," I say. "She was the only other woman in that part of the prison."

"Would you like me—"

But whatever Snape is going to ask is snapped at the root, as Riddle begins his torture.

"Crucio," he hisses, and someone starts to scream.

"Oh god," Hermione whispers from the couch. Her arms are wrapped around her middle, and she's rocking back to front. "Ohgodohgodohgod."

There are other, more delicate ways to break through a memory charm, but torture is by far the quickest.

Ron wraps his arm around her shoulders. Remus looks to do the same before he catches Draco's eye and promptly stands up. Draco abandons his spot on the chair and moves to his next to Hermione, grasping her hand in his.

Theo looks moments from sicking up.

The sound is horrendous. Like it's being ripped from the person unbidden. They barely stop for breath, as their body contorts in pain and that pain is made real by the screams that rent the air.

"Inimicus domus meae, potestatem tuam capio pro mea." Riddle repeats slowly.

"Enemy of my house, I take your power for my own," Snape translates, with a curious lilt to his voice.

"But what House?" Riddle asks slowly.

"He's interested," I say quietly, as all eyes turn towards me. "Curious. It's something he's never seen before, and he thinks he's pushed magic to the brink and beyond. He'll investigate now, until he's figured it out. Until he discovers if he can use it. Imagine the glory it would give him, if he could strip me of my powers for all to see."

Neville looks suddenly terrified, gripping the edge of his seat.

He won't be able to use it himself. It's a Black family curse, requiring Black family magic to power the spell. Even if Bellatrix could still use magic, the first thing I did was disinherit her. We tested it, over and over and over again. He won't be able to use it against me. That doesn't mean he won't discover some way to twist something similar for his own.

But Riddle wouldn't use it as his first line of defence. Not against me. He needs to prove he can beat me, before he'd strip me down. That spell would only be used when I'm beaten and bloody and my body is on display. It's the only way forward for him. The only way to prove once and for all that he is better than me.

"I did not see the person who did it, did you?" Snape asks.

"Not yet," Riddle says.

"Then that wasn't Bellatrix," Nev says, his voice tight and shaking. They haven't tortured Bellatrix yet.

The screaming starts anew.

Will they torture every prisoner? Did I leave my calling card for nothing? Will it be better for us, or worse, if Riddle never discovers who stole his servant's powers.

Snape and Riddle talk in between tortures.

"Whomever it is, they are disillusioned."

A man roars in pain, the sound cut off in choking and gurgling.

"Dolohov was always weak." "Do you recognize the voice?"

Does that mean they've killed him in the attempt to find the answer? I can't muster up much sympathy if they did.

"They are only choosing Death Eaters."

A scream rips the air, and it's a scream I recognize.

"But the Ministry stooge was not a Death Eater, my Lord. And the oath varies from person to person." "Whomever he is, he's married." "Or he was," Lucius adds, probably trying to sound helpful.

"Bella, pet," Riddle croons, and my heart leaps into my throat.

"Please, Master," she begs, and unlike all the others, she doesn't sound afraid. She sounds sacrificial, giving up herself to discover who has stripped her of her magic.

Her screams sound almost joyous.

I've found myself behind Hermione, leaning on the couch. My fingers are digging into the leather, and my panting has synched with my wifes.

Her screeching reaches a fever pitch, then morphes into a demented cackling that raises goosebumps across my skin. Nausea roils in my stomach. Hermione rises on the couch, then crawls right over the back, pressing herself into my side. Her back is to my front, and I wrap my arms around her, using her as a grounding stone.

There's a crash, a burst of shattering glass, and that bloody laugh continues through it all.

It's the laugh that's haunted our nightmares. The last sound we heard before we were wiped from this earth, before they sent us back to try again.

"Harry Potter!" Riddle hisses, and I've never heard my name said with such venom. His voice is low, and only when six sets of curious eyes turn our way do I realize he spoke in Parseltongue.

"He knows," Hermione says on a breath, then Riddle's shriek of fury makes the wireless shake.

Pandemonium erupts from the speakers, screaming and fighting and spells exploding in every which direction.

Every person in our room jumps as if we've been electrified, gasping in surprise and fear.

"Avada Kedavra," Riddle cries, over and over and over again.

"Oh god," Hermione whimpers, clinging to my arms. It should be impossible for a single person to kill that easily. But he does. He uses the spell like the rest of us use Accio; constantly and without thought. But he's not just killing them. He's torturing people too. There isn't that much screaming for something as painless as an AK.

I would know.

Riddle sounds out of breath when he finally finishes, and he's hissing in pants through the speaker.

"How is it possible?" Riddle seethes, and he sounds so snake-like that I can't tell what language he's speaking. "How did he get into the prison?"

There's crying in the background, and the keening wails of what can only be people dying. "Narcissa," Lucius hisses, and I'm hoping that means they're both still alive, if only for Draco's sake. The Slytherin son closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath, his boyfriend still at his feet, offering him silent support.

"I—" Snape stutters, clearly at a loss for words. "I do not know, my Lord. Obviously, this is the disturbance the Prophet reported on this summer, but as to how…"

Riddle cuts him off.

"How is it possible that a mere boy was able to confiscate the magic of the strongest pureblood witches and wizards alive?"

"I—"

"He did not bind them, Severus, he RIPPED IT FROM THEIR CHESTS! AND I WAS UNAWARE!"

"Oh God," Hermione breathes, and I wrap her tighter in my arms. Her heart is beating uncontrollably, her breathing coming ragged.

"My Lord," Snape tries again, but is cut off with a strangled gurgle.

"I risked myself, exposed myself to the Ministry, for NOTHING! They are USELESS to me! And you, Dumbledore's dog, knew nothing about it."

My stomach twists and lurches at the danger in Riddle's voice. It's only Snape. He deserves everything he gets. But my fingers dig into the meat of my arms to keep me rooted where I stand. I could stop this. I could save him from whatever torture is going on. I could send one of the elves there now, to pop Snape away before it gets any worse.

But that would defeat the purpose.

This is war.

"What is the point of having two eyes, Severus, if you don't use them to see? Perhaps you are no longer of use to me afterall…"

Snape cries out in agony then the only sound through the wireless is anguished panting. I gag at the meaty squelching noise barely concealed by the Potion Master's screaming. Hermione's knees buckle, the only thing keeping her on her feet is my grip on her.

"From now on, Severus, I expect you to use your remaining eye to provide me with information that's useful."

Snapes gasping is a wet and broken sound, but he manages a dignified response for all that.

"Yes," he says haltingly. "My Lord."

When Riddle moves, it sounds as if he's walking through puddles, his robes dragging in the rain.

"My poor Nagini would have loved to bathe in the blood," Riddle says. "Come, Bella," he says, and the crooning noise he sings makes me want to gag again. "Perhaps I will find some use for you yet."

Is it possible to make a human a familiar?

Then the crack of apparition explodes through the wireless, and Riddle speaks no more.

There's a flurry of movement, but it sounds distorted and coarse.

"Severus," Narcissa Malfoy cries. "Careful with his head," Lucius says in tight urgent tones. "How will we get him back to Hogwarts in this state?" Narcissa asks. "Severus is no fool." Her husband replies. "He carries an emergency portkey on him. I believe it drops him outside the castle gates…"

I block the rest of it out, as they hurry to triage the injured Snape. I wonder if they three are the only ones left alive.

Remus reaches forward and twists off the wireless, uncaring about listening any longer.

"I'll go tell the Headmaster," Sirius says, pale as a Hogwarts ghost. Sweat is coating his brow, and his voice holds a tremble. "Snape will need attention when he gets back to the castle."

If he gets back hangs in the air unsaid.

"I'll head down to the gate, to await him when he gets here," Remus promises, following Sirius to the door. It's the best we can do. Any interference outside of this castle, and they'll know we have a way to see into that house. We just have to hope that Snape informed Dumbledore that he was leaving tonight, and that Snape is too hurt to question why Remus is waiting on his return.

"Grab Poppy too," I add, "and McGonagall." Remus gives a sharp nod before they both hurry from the room.

"What do we tell the others when they ask how we know Snape needed assistance?" Hermione asks, plucking the question from my mind. She's running her fingers over her non-existent scar again. I drop my hand from my forehead when I realize I'm doing it too.

I shake my head in exhaustion. I feel like we've run a marathon. Depleted more in spirit than I am in mind and body.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. I have a meeting with Dumbledore this week. Depending on how that goes, I'll give him more information."

I won't be able to win this war if I can't trust Dumbledore, but I can't trust Dumbledore to give me the information I need to win the war. My head gives a painful throb, and I lock my knees so I don't collapse. Hermione gives me a knowing glare.

"I think we won that round," Ron says wearily, trying to put more enthusiasm into his voice than any of us truly feel.

"Hmmm," I say, unable to voice anything else. Nev and Draco begin to give their opinions of the night's activities.

Hermione twists in my arms again and links her arms around my back. I pull her to me as tight as I can, burying my nose in her hair. I let the others fall away until the only thing I'm conscious of is the weight of the girl against my chest and the feel of her heart against mine.

True, half the death eaters are neutralized, and Riddle knows we're coming for him. He knows, in a way mere words would never show, that we are a force to reckon with.

I fear all we've accomplished is to wake a sleeping giant.