Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling. This is a response to the Severitus challenge. Everything you don't recognise from either of these sources is mine.
Chapter eight: Final stage
Time passed, as it always does. Hours became days, days became weeks. Harry passed every free period he had on the library, to search more information about occlumency, apparition, the Laniglia spell, and the Ysalar Draught. He also spent as much time as possible practicing occlumency, and used each time with Snape to do real practice.
He felt it was taking too long. Each time the Daily Prophet announced another death caused by Voldemort, another tortured family… He just wanted it to be over. But rushing things would do no good, he knew. He would only have one chance. If his occlumency wasn't perfect when he finally decided to act, Voldemort wouldn't drink the potion, and would kill him. Everything would then be lost.
So he practiced, again and again. He occluded while flying, eating, showering. He had to be able to do it in a heart's beat.
Every Thursday, he went at Snape's office at 8 o'clock to learn more about potion brewing. Often they didn't talk much. Snape assigned him a potion to brew, and Harry did while Snape marked essays or brew a potion just next to him. This was when his occlumency training came into action. Generally he managed to avoid saying anything offending, and even engaged in small talk when Snape was in the mood. When he was trying to brew a particularly difficult potion, Snape often offered quiet advices, and even caught himself saying 'Well done' after Harry had managed Veritaserum quite satisfyingly on the first attempt.
Snape found himself happier than he had been in years (although he hid it well). He was getting to know his son, and enjoyed every minute of it. Harry was still uncomfortable in his presence, but it was slowly changing. The only reason he was still precautious around Snape was that he totally ignored what had occurred to change their relationship that drastically.
Severus was dying to tell him. Each time he saw Lily's eyes in the boy's face, Potter's face, he was dying to tell him that he, Severus Snape, was his father. He desperately wanted to know what the boy really looked like.
He was getting frustrated. Here was his son, and he couldn't even tell him the truth because a megalomadman wanted to rule the world. He hated Voldemort even more than before.
Harry found himself liking more and more the time he spend with the older man, and was beginning to trust him more than Dumbledore. After all, Snape had never done anything to gain his mistrust. True, he had taunted Sirius, but as much as Harry had loved his godfather, he knew he somehow earned it. Each time he thought about the incident he had seen in the pensieve… and Sirius' answer when he confronted him was hardly satisfying ("he was fifteen and an idiot").
If Dudley was suddenly locked up in a house he hated (without television or video games for example), Harry probably wouldn't restrain himself either to make some remarks.
His hatred for Snape was entirely gone, now. He was instead building a mixed feeling of respect and trust. And in the early December, he had an opportunity to test this trust.
It was Thursday night. As usual, he entered the little lab, expecting to see new instructions on his table besides the cauldron he always used. Instead, he found Snape sitting in a chair in front of the door, and sat where his professor mentioned he had to.
"I admit you progressed further than I thought you would in such a short amount of time. You've grasped the basics, and now you're ahead of the majority of your class. So, instead of doing as usual the next potion the class will have to brew, we'll now see some potions that we won't see in class. Do you have any suggestion?"
That was it. The perfect opportunity. He just had to ask…
"Well? No idea? Fine, we'll…"
"No, I've got one actually."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Huh. Have you heard of… the Ysalar Potion?"
"So, miss Granger told you about her thoughtless idea, didn't she? As I'm sure you well know, it's classed as Dark Arts. I can't teach you that."
"With all due respect sir, it never stopped you before. I did a little research. Occlumency isn't very light either."
"A "little research", you say? So that's why you're so much calmer and collected now, isn't it? You learned it all alone."
"Yes. I had to."
"I understand. But I thought we had put our differences aside… you could have come to me with this, you realise?"
Harry paused to think. Yes, indeed, they did have put their differences aside. He had known it for a while, but hearing Snape voicing it made it real, somehow. Suddenly, every doubts he still had about telling Snape his idea vanished. Snape would help him. He always had, even back when they still hated each other.
"I come to you with that, now Will you help me?" he finally asked.
"To brew an Ysalar Draught? Not without knowing what you wish to do with it. And don't you tell me you're just curious about it. I know you. You never do things without a reason."
"I didn't intend to lie."
"If you say so. So, what did you want it for?"
"Vanquish Voldemort, of course."
"I thought Dumbledore explained. This potion only works on a body. All Voldemort would have to do…
"…would be to change body again, I know that. But not if I cast Leniglia on him before he drinks it."
"Leniglia? What the hell is that?"
"You've never heard of it?"
"Not that I remember. Should I have?"
"It's a spell created to link a soul and a body. The link is unalterable, and unbreakable."
"So, your plan is to go see Voldemort, cast a spell on him and offer him a potion? Do you really expect it to work?"
"Put like that… No. Which is why I need your help. I need to go as you. You're a Death Eater no offence so he'll let me get near him if I look like you, and with my wand! Then I'll just have to tell him it's a potion that rends him immortal or something like that, and he'll drink it!"
"…"
"Sir?"
"ARE YOU MAD? OR JUST SUICIDAL? I'm NOT letting you go there with that STUPID plan in mind!
" But perhaps that plan is worth something… why would you go as me, when I could just go as myself? Yes. I'll have to imply some weeks early that I'm working on a new potion, capable to link the subject to his life or something and prevent death… he would drink it if I let him use legilimens on me… I may have to alter my memories so that he really will see what he intends to…"
"I'm NOT letting you do that. What if it works? The Death Eaters will understand it was your potion that made their master more an incapable that he already is, and what would they do to you then? It's too dangerous."
"I'll have a Portkey prepared. Did you not think of it?"
"Of course I did, answered Harry, even if it wasn't true. But, sir, what makes you think you will have time to activate it? You won't be able to if you're under a body bind, or Stupefy…" or worse. The killing curse. He didn't say the words, but they kind of floated in the air between the two men.
"Potter, we could end all this once and for all and you want me to abandon this fabulous plan for concerns about my safety?"
"I thought it was a STUPID plan?"
"It was, when you intended to do it."
"I still intend to do it. It's not your business. Voldemort is mine. The prophecy says so. He'll just kill you. I have a chance."
"I never believed in these things. And when you think about who made the stupid thing… Trelawney is a lousy bitch, nothing more. And I'm NOT letting you go there. Think, Potter. I'm a trained Death Eater. Do you really think you're more up to the task than I am, being a sixth-year student? You'll get yourself killed!"
"As if you cared. Once Voldemort is gone, even Dumbledore won't care what happens to me. Why would you? I'm just a weapon. A stupid marionette who has to do its job."
"You really think that, don't you? I admit it would probably be Dumbledore's line of thoughts. He thinks like a chess master, you see. To sacrifice one piece to win the game… It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you. The thing is, he cares about all the wizarding world. He has to make choices. But think about your friends. All the Weasleys. Lupin. MacGonagall."
"Yeah, and letting uncle Voldy rule the world is for their best I suppose? It's for them I have to do this."
"If I go they won't be forced to suffer the Dark Lord's reign anymore and they won't lose you either."
"Yeah, everyone will lose you instead. If you think I shouldn't take the risk then I don't see why you should."
"I'm serious, Potter. You're not going there and it's final. And who knows about prophecies? This one could just mean you had to find the way to end Voldemort, not actually doing it. Now you have. I'll go."
"…"
"Potter?"
"Fine. Do it. Get yourself killed in the process. I don't care! Just promise me two things…"
"What?"
"I want you to promise that you'll call me before you go. BEFORE you leave. When you'll feel the mark. I want you to call me. I want to be there. Please."
"Why?"
"Please!"
"Fine. I'll call you. Happy? Now, I'll even let you brew the potion. I really don't believe in prophecies, but I think it wouldn't hurt to satisfy this one as much as we can, would it? I believe I have it in one of my books… stay here."
"Wait! I want another promise."
"What now?"
"Dumbledore mustn't know."
"No? Fine. You're right, he would try to dissuade me and he can be quite persuasive when he wants to."
He left and Harry sighed, relieved.
Snape was fuming. Stupid Gryffindor! So that was why Harry didn't blow up at any insult anymore. He had been studying occlumencie all on his own! And for what?
Because he had this stupid plan in mind all this time! All the research it must have cost, to learn about these potions, and the spell, which Severus himself had never heard of! He must have been planning that for weeks! Perhaps even months!
And why? Because Dumbledore, the interfering old fool, had put in his young head that he was the one who had to end the madman! That he was the one who could stop the murders, the tortures…
And now… now he would have to die. Of course. He was the only one Harry had told of his plan, and he had even promised not to involve Dumbledore.
And he couldn't just ignore the plan, because it could work. It would work. It had to work.
It was a beautiful plan and it was realisable. And furthermore, which forced Snape's admiration, it didn't involve killing. Snape hated to kill. He had to, of course, way too often, to keep his position as a spy. The killing and torturing was the main reason why he had left Voldemort's service. He had realised it didn't procure him a feeling of extreme power, just sickness.
But for this plan to work, one of them (and Snape absolutely refused to let Harry do it) had to go to a Death Eaters meeting and cause Voldemort to lose his powers. Which wouldn't go unnoticed. Snape held no illusions as to what his punishment would be. Torture, followed by slow death.
Which lead to another problem: what was his son thinking? Was he really so naïve he thought the Death Eaters would just pat him in the head, or so foolish he thought he could handle them all? Or worse, was he so desperate he didn't care, as long as he did what he thought was his "duty"?
He was rather afraid it was the last. He sneered. His son really was a typical Gryffindor.
One of them had to do it. If he let Harry do it (which was out of question), he would never see him again. Of that he was sure. The idea was unbearable. Never to see him again, never to talk to him again… And he could never tell him that he was his father.
If he went… it was the same, in a sense. Harry would never know he was his son, and Sev would never see or talk to him again. But he would know Harry would live, and in a world without Voldemort…
And without himself. All alone, once again.
He vaguely wondered just when Harry had taken such an important part in his life. Just a few weeks ago, he wasn't even sure he wanted to acknowledge he had a son. Now, he was ready (well, not ready, but prepared anyway) to face death just to spare him… his own flesh and blood. And the worse was that it seemed natural to do so.
He didn't even have to think about it. If he could spare his son, he would. Even if it meant painful death. All prophecies, crazy old men and Harry's gryffindoresk behaviour be damned, his son wouldn't die if he could prevent it.
Holding that thought, he returned to Harry with the book, and they didn't speak about it again that night.
An hour after Harry left, Severus grasped his right arm tightly in pain. His "master" was calling. Time to begin the plan's first phase…
"My Severuss. What news do you bring me? What is Dumbledore planning?"
"My Lord, he asked me to brew a potion."
Technically that wasn't a lie. "He" was referring to Harry, and not to Dumbledore, but Voldemort didn't need to know that. He felt Voldemort's mind exploring his own and focused on the true part, hiding the rest.
"Did he? What potion exactly?"
"I have to work on an improvement of the Ysalar Draught. Apparently, his very old friend Nicholas Flamel left notes about…"
"About what?"
"Immortality, my Lord. Acquired by a modified version of the Ysalar Draught and an obscure spell."
"Dumbledore wishes to become immortal?"
"Perhaps he understands it is his only way to survive your reign, my Lord."
"Very well. You will report me any news about this. Immediately. Is that clear?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Regain your place."
After that, the meeting was pretty usual.
Harry quickly grabbed his invisibility cloak, which was hidden under his mattress. He had to act quickly, or the Apothecary would be closed. He put it on, and noticed that it barely covered his feet, now. He remembered when Ron and Hermione would fit under it with him without any problem. That seemed to be forever ago. Now Ron, Hermione and him were as good as strangers. They barely saw each other at all, these days. Ron and Hermione were always together, hugging or holding hands, and Harry didn't want to intrude, so he remained away. Most of the time, anyway, he had to practice occlumency, or read about stuff he didn't want them to know about. And when he wasn't, he liked to spend time with Draco, or Ginny and Luna…
Much had changed, this year. He remembered fondly when the Gryffindor Trio would spend the year solving mysteries, righting some wrong… And yet here he was, planning the most daring plan they had ever dreamed of, with almost no chance of getting out of it alive, and he wasn't even telling them. This time, he acted all alone. No more whispered conversations in front of the fireplace about which of their teachers could be the evil one, or how to stop Voldemort from taking over the school or the world…
Perhaps that was just maturity. Handling things on his own, rather than including innocent people who would risk their lives too. The prophecy didn't include anyone else. This was between Voldemort and him. His destiny, written before he was even born.
Enough with the melodrama, he told himself. The plan had just acquired another difficulty, as if it wasn't hard enough already. All because of Snape! He had thought that if the man agreed to the plan, he wouldn't have to brew any potions at all, and certainly no ingredients to buy. Snape would take care of anything Potion related.
And indeed he had said he would. He had promised to take care of everything except the actual brewing for the Ysalar Draught. But that wasn't the only potion Harry needed.
He still needed Veritas Polyjuice. No way would he allow Snape to go in his place. It was his job.
But Snape refused to understand that. It puzzled Harry. Surely Snape would rather see him die than take the risk himself? Maybe he just didn't trust him to do the job. Maybe he thought he was incapable of occluding, or was it the Laniglia spell he didn't trust him to do? Anyway, he was wrong. Harry was ready. As ready as anyone could ever be to attempt something like that, anyway. He had read every last thing he could find on the spell on the library, restricted section included, and even if he had never cast it, he felt ready to try.
While reading about the Veritas Polyjuice, he had also learned something that made his job easier. While impersonating someone else, he would temporary have the same magical abilities the person had. So he didn't need to learn how to apparate. Snape already knew.
He quietly walked through the silent corridors of the castle, the Marauder's Map in hand, heading towards the secret passage.
When he came back, ingredients carefully hidden inside the Room of Requirements, which had for the occasion taken the form of a potions lab, the dormitory was dark. Ron's bed was empty, as it was more often than not these days, and Neville was snoring. Dean and Seamus seemed to be asleep too, and Harry quietly changed into his pyjamas before entering his bed. Drawing the curtains, he hold a cry of surprise. There, waiting patiently for him to come, ruffling his feathers, was Fawkes. When he saw Harry he gave him a piece of parchment, then disappeared with a pop. Harry sat, bemused, the paper in hand, and cast lumos with a whisper to see what it was.
It was a convocation from Dumbledore, for the next day at noon. Harry panicked. Did the Headmaster knew what he intended to do? Did he want to stop him, or to help?
Harry silently vowed not to tell him anything. If he did, then the Headmaster would surely insist he let Snape do it in his place, or at least that he didn't go alone. Order members could follow him, using tracking spells, if he was willing. Well, he wasn't. He wouldn't let anyone else take any risks. It was already enough that Snape knew the plan. That was a big risk. Not because he didn't trust that Snape was on his side. He had absolutely no doubt about that. But Snape could tell someone else, or resist when Harry would want to take his place…
Once again, Harry wondered why Snape would want to go instead of him. The more he thought about it, the more that puzzled him. He fell asleep still trying to decipher this enigma.
The following day, he told Draco not to wait for him after class and headed towards the Headmaster's office. Not really in the mood to guess the password, he just stood in front of the gargoyle, and, strangely enough, it moved on its own almost immediately. He knocked on Dumbledore's office, and entered when the old man told him to.
"Harry! How are you my boy?"
"I'm fine, thank you Headmaster."
"Lemon drop?"
"Sure." Harry figured having something on his mouth would give him an excuse to avoid answering immediately if he had to think about what he wanted to say.
"I wanted to talk to you about the approaching holidays."
"What about it, sir?" Harry answered after chewing. He forcefully occluded. Did Dumbledore knew what he had planned to do over the holidays?
"Harry, I wish to know what you want to do during Christmas break."
Harry took another bite of lemon drop. It was all he could do to avoid babbling. Thankfully, the Headmaster wasn't finished.
"You see, I know you always spends Christmas at Hogwarts, but this year I'm afraid it won't be possible. We have gathered evidence that Voldemort plans to attack the school on Christmas Day, and we intend to set him into a trap. Of course, in order to do that, the school must be completely empty."
Oh Merlin, no! If he was outside the school when Snape received the call, he wouldn't be able to take his place! Occlude. Calm down. Dumbledore mustn't know. You'll think about it later. He forced himself back into the conversation.
"But, sir, won't he know it if we empty the school?"
He was evidently thinking about the new DADA teacher, who was a known Death Eater. Well, known to anyone who cared to look, anyway. Not to the Ministry, obviously.
"If you're thinking about the spy among our ranks, it is in fact thanks to him that this plan is possible at all. The poor professor is quite sure I trust him, so if I tell him you're staying at school for the holidays, he'll without doubt return this information to his master."
"So you're thinking that Voldemort wants to attack this place just because I'm in it?"
"That's certainly part of it."
"Where will I go?" he asked suddenly. Not because he cared, though. By then, he had figured his plan would have to take place before the holidays to have a chance to work. After, Dumbledore and the Order would have risked their lives for nothing, 'coz their plan would never work. His could. Plus, after being set into a trap, Voldemort would become more paranoid than ever. So, by the time Dumbledore wanted to sent him anywhere, either he wouldn't be there anymore (dead or in captivity) or there wouldn't be any need to leave the school. Still, Dumbledore might get suspicious if he didn't ask.
"Well, I thought you should consider going back to the Dursleys. It really is the best place for you. Plus, the protection your mother left you would be stronger if you went there more often."
"With respect sir, going back there once a year is enough. Couldn't I stay in Headquarters instead?" he plaid. Really, he didn't care, since he wouldn't go anywhere, but he thought he ought to act as if he cared what Dumbledore said.
"Harry, nobody will be at Headquarters over the holidays. We'll need everyone in order for the trap to have a chance to work. We can't spare anybody to look after you."
"I'm not a little boy! I don't need anyone to look after me."
"Still, I can't let you alone in that time. You might take it upon you to come here and rescue us. I know you Harry. You'll go to the Dursleys. It is safer. And after all, Christmas is a family thing. You should be with your family."
Harry fought to keep his calm. Family? He wanted to scream. The Dursleys had never been his family.
"Yes sir." He answered between his teeth. "Was there anything else?"
"No, Harry. You can go to the Great Hall now if you wish. Please feel free to come and see me if you need anything."
Harry didn't even bother to answer and left quickly. The gall of that man was incredible! He didn't go to the Great Hall. He wasn't really hungry, and besides, he needed fresh air, and to be left alone.
He needed to occlude, he realised. It always helped him. Sitting under the tree closer to the lake, he fought his anger. Hearing the waves of the lake helped. He could let go of his anger and let it melt into the water, push it by waves. He pushed, and piece by piece, he managed to return the waves as they came to his feet. He didn't notice it, thought. His eyes were closed. But soon he was able to feel peace again.
That peace helped him focus on what was important. It didn't matter if the Headmaster wanted to trick him into returning at the Dursleys. Yes, trick him, he recognised it now. That backhanded comment, "you might want to rescue us" was really a low blow, destined to remind him of his failure with Sirius, and thus to make him agree to whatever was asked to avoid another situation like that.
But it didn't matter at all, because he wouldn't go. He would never, ever have to go back to the Dursleys. If he managed to end the menace Voldemort, he would surely die. And even if he didn't, there was no way in hell he was going to put up with this crap anymore. No. If he was old enough to vanquish a Dark Lord, then he was surely old enough to live on his own.
What mattered right now was the plan. The plan had changed, and he needed to inform his partner in crime. Namely, Snape. Sighing, he headed back to the castle…
