Disclaimer: Harry Potter's universe belongs to JK Rowling. This story is a response to the Severitus' challenge. The rest is mine.
Author note: Thanks for all the reviews!
Chapter nine: deception
A week later, Snape asked him to come in his office immediately after dinner. Draco insisted on going with him, and only left with reluctance once Snape told him to. Since the beginning of the school year, Snape hadn't been treating him as well as before. In fact, and all the more since he paired up with Harry, the professor treated him even worse than the gryffindors. Even if he didn't show it, Harry knew it deeply hurt Draco, since Snape was his godfather and he felt betrayed that he would choose the Dark Lord over his own godson.
Harry knew that Snape didn't have a choice. More than ever he had to act as a loyal Death Eater, and that included despising all Malfoys. He just wished he could trust Draco enough to tell him about Snape's true allegiances.
Draco always appeared worried whenever Harry had to go to one of his private potions lessons, and had even tried to make Harry quit them, arguing that he wasn't that bad at potions anyway, and that if he really needed a private potions professor he could always ask him, since he was the best potion student of their year. Harry had argued back, saying that Snape only agreed to take him into his newt level as long as he would take remedial sessions, and since he wanted to get into the Auror program, he had to. Draco said that with his Gryffindor's recklessness there was little chance he would stay alive this long. Harry laughed, but privately he agreed. That was the end of the matter.
Still, he was willing to bet that the Slytherin boy was going to try to eavesdrop on the conversation, so he was glad when Snape cast a silencing charm before saying anything. Then, he opened a cupboard at the far end of the room, took out a dark bottle of something, and poured himself a glass full of a liquid that smelled strongly like alcohol even from where Harry stood. He gulped it in a swallow, then spoke in a hollow voice.
"I went to a meeting last night. The Dark Lord is growing impatient with the potion I promised to brew for him. I am to bring it to him as soon as it is finished, without waiting for a summon."
He pulled himself another drink, and then another. Harry spoke the first thing in his mind, to fill the disturbing silence.
"How will you know where to go, if he doesn't summon you?"
"What do you mean?" asked Snape, drinking yet another glass.
"Isn't the summon the way you track the location where Voldemort is?"
"Not really. The mark does that on its own. It makes us attracted by the Dark Lord's location, like a muggle magnet, and so it's easier at any time to apparate near Him than to anywhere else. That's why most of the Death Eaters avoid apparition to other locations as much as possible. Fighting the link while appariting can be quite draining."
Harry was beginning to worry. If Snape was making comparisons between the Dark Mark and Muggle technology, he was indeed quite drunk. On the other way, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. A babbling Snape could be useful. He watched with mixed feelings as Snape poured himself another drink.
"So basically you can find him whenever you want. Why did you never use that to set him into a trap?"
"Well, firstly Dumbledore firmly believes that you're the only one who can vanquish him, and even he admits you're way too young for such a task. Plus, the mark doesn't actually gives me his location. It just attracts me there. But I've no way of knowing where there is. Apparition isn't like following a map. There is no notion of distance, as long as you are linked to the location you search, either by the Dark Mark or by knowing already where it is."
"Oh. So, when is Voldemort expecting the potion?"
"Tonight. Tomorrow, at the very least. We'll have to brew it now. I have prepared the ingredients. Come."
Harry gulped. This was his chance. Snape was drunk, and he would be much more easier to knock out than usual. There was only the matter of the potion still to brew, but Harry knew it almost by heart now, he had studied so hard. He was sure he would be able to make it… And the Polyjuice was ready and awaiting in the Room of Requirements.
Snape opened the door to his private lab, the bottle in his other hand, then entered it with uneasy steps. Apparently, whatever alcohol he had been drinking was already taking its effects.
Harry followed him inside, and as Snape was slowly turning around, he got his wand out to stun him. Before he knew it though, the wand was snapped out of his hand and Snape was pointing it at him, quickly muttering 'Petrificus Totalis'. He fell to the floor, unable to move, eyes open, and when Snape came into his vision he realized the man didn't appear drunk at all anymore.
"Surprise." He hissed at Harry while picking him up and carrying him to the couch, with such precise movements that Harry's last doubts vanished. The man was sober, and had been all along. Whatever he had been drinking hadn't been alcohol at all, but something smelling like it to make him think it was. It was all a trap. Snape had obviously known he would try to go in his place all along. He had been stupid enough to fall for it, and now he was body-bound! Snape was going to brew the potion, and go to Voldemort himself!
He couldn't let him do that! Despair filled him, his overwhelming desire to prevent Snape from risking his life burning inside of him. He felt like he was going to explode. He couldn't even clinch his fists in rage, his anger building without any way to release it physically. Anger directed not at Snape, but at himself, for being stupid enough to fall right into the professor's trap.
He had to free himself! He could do it. Wandless magic. He had done it numerous times, when he was feeling angry, or threatened, and now he was surely frustrated enough to call forth his magical abilities! It was now or never.
But he just couldn't. In the meantime, Snape had left the chamber, and Harry could hear him opening bottles, probably making the potion. He forced himself to calm down. Some of the ingredients necessary to brew the potion were very rare, and he doubted Snape had bought more than the minimal amount. If he somehow managed to use his wandless magic now, it would risk damaging the potion or the ingredients, which would be even worse than letting Snape do the job. Wandless magic was incontrollable, and he couldn't afford to loose the potion.
How could he calm down now, though? What he had been planning for months had failed miserably, and now another one of the few adults he looked up to was going to have to risk his life! The answer was simple, though. He just had to occlude, as he had done on many occasions.
This time it was more difficult than usual. He had to fight against his intense feelings, and the urgency he felt didn't help to detach himself from his worries either. Eventually, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, he managed to force all his negative feelings out. They left him all at once, and there was a loud noise as everything around him went flying away, as if taken by a whirl of wind. He heard Snape swear under his breath, coming out the door of the lab, and then he could see him standing right in front of him, his wand pointed at his face.
"I can see it was a mistake keeping you conscious. Sleep well, Potter. Somu-"
"STUPEFY!" said Draco's voice coming from the doorway. And then, pointing his wand at Harry, he said two really welcome words: "Finite Incantatem!".
Harry was free, and he quickly got up. Snape was lying on the floor a few feet away, Harry's wand in his pocket and his own in his right hand. Harry took them both, while Draco claimed:
"I told you he was a Death Eater, didn't I? But NO, you still had to come in here alone, you stupid Gryffindor! He was probably going to turn you over to the Dark Lord!"
"Voldemort", Harry corrected automatically, though his mind wasn't on it. He felt drained, as if he hadn't slept for a few days. If he had been more aware, he would probably have realised the irony of the situation. Draco assumed that Snape wanted to bring him to Voldemort, while he had in fact been trying to avoid it.
"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, what just happened? I tried to open the door as soon as I realised you had been there far too long, and it was spelled close. How did you manage to lift the spell while being under a body-bind? Or did Snape lift it? I can't see why he would have, though."
"I couldn't do a thing, so he must have opened it. Or you finally managed to overcome his spell. I'm not sure…" Harry answered in a dreamy voice. How had he opened the door? It must have been his occlumency, but he had never heard of a similar occurrence, and he had read a whole lot of books on the subject. Occlumency wasn't supposed to do that. But somehow, his did. He couldn't let Draco know, of course. Damn mistrust. He would really have liked to talk to a friend about it, and with Ron and Hermione unavailable…
He could have used some help, considering the situation. Draco could set up an alibi for his disappearance, and Snape's as well, which would buy him time to go to the Room of Requirements, add Snape's hair, and then drink it and go.
"Harry, are you ok?"
"Sure."
He could trust Draco, couldn't he? The blond had just proven his loyalty, by rescuing him from what he thought was a Death Eater.
But there was too much at stake to tell someone he wasn't really sure of. So, taking Snape's wand (he needed to test if it worked for him, and now was as good a time as any) he quickly stunned the Slytherin, who fell on the floor. He was amazed at how well Snape's wand worked for him. It felt familiar, somehow, although Harry had never used it before.
He didn't have time to ponder why, though. Kneeling beside Snape, he cut a few of his professor's hair, and walked to the fireplace. Before going in, he looked back at the room. Snape must have done a Portkey for himself as he had said he would, but Harry had no way of knowing what it was, or what password activated it… He would have to do without, then. Sighing, he threw a handful of Floo powder, went in and screamed "Hogwarts, seventh floor!".
He knew there was at least one fireplace by floor, and even if he greatly disliked Floo, it was safer than wandering the corridors. He found himself in a little dusty room, and as he left it he realised he was just in front of the tapestry beyond which the door to the Room of Requirements was hidden. Holding the thought of his little private lab in mind, he walked three times in front of it, and the door appeared. He opened it, went in and sighed in relief when he saw the mud-green looking potion awaiting the last ingredient. Each time he left the Room he worried he wasn't gonna find the same one anymore.
He dropped the hair of Snape in it, then sighed in disgust. Drinking it once had been more than enough, and with Crabbe's hair in it no less (or was it Goyle? He couldn't remember). With Snape's greasy hair, it promised to be even worse. Grimacing, he brought it to his lips, then brought it down immediately. The smell was horrible! He couldn't drink that!
He smirked at the irony. He didn't think twice about taking insane risks to bring Voldemort to his end, but he was having hesitations over a simple bad tasting potion? Shaking his head, he drowned the awful mixture in one gulp. Then he immediately took another potion, to clear his breath of the very recognisable smell of Polyjuice. It had the additional effect of clearing the taste, too, so he was glad he had taken the precaution.
Just as he was about to put down the empty glass, an awful feeling in his stomach made him hold onto it. The glass fell to the floor, but Harry couldn't care less. He felt as thought his insides were torn apart, the pain was excruciating. Harry was beginning to worry. He clearly remembered that this kind of Polyjuice couldn't be taken by someone who wished to harm the owner of the hair, but what if it didn't take in intentions, but facts? After all, Snape hadn't exactly been thinking highly of him when the hair was taken. And it was taken unwillingly…
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Breathing hard, Harry strengthened and noticed absent-mindedly the changes. He was taller, his hair had grown and was greasier, and he felt a dull pain in his forearm. He pulled up his sleeve with his long and white fingers, and discovered the thing he hated more than anything. Unsurprisingly, he could sense that Snape disliked it about as much as he did, perhaps even more.
Quickly, he got rid of his clothes, which were too small for Snape (well, his robes were anyway. Dudley's old clothes weren't too small for anyone except him and his father). He put on the clothes he had brought in about a week ago, knowing that even if the Room of Requirements could provide him with anything, he wouldn't be able to get it out.
Walking not to appear suspicious, though his mind screamed him to run, he quietly got out of the Room, headed towards the stairs. The good thing was that he didn't have to worry about being in trouble for wandering the corridors after curfew. Snape was a professor, and if spotted he would be assumed to make the rounds in order to take points of wandering students.
He was glad Snape was known for his mood swings and that no one would be surprised to see him walk as if he had a meeting with Merlin himself, because he was in no mood to walk as if he had no worries. He was extremely nervous, and at the same time excited. This was it. The plan so far had worked. If he managed to get it done, the wizarding world would be at peace once again, and people all over Europe would be celebrating that very night. Not him, though. He didn't have any way of getting out of Voldemort's hands. He didn't have a Portkey, and from what Snape had told him it was difficult for a Death Eater to apparate anywhere away from his master. Since Harry didn't have any experience at apparating, he would probably split himself…
But that shouldn't be a problem. The moment the Death Eaters realised what was happening, they would set anti-apparition wards to prevent the traitor's escape. Somehow that didn't make Harry feel better.
The way out of the school grounds felt excruciatingly long and much too short all at once.
He really didn't want to die, and that was probably what awaited him if he apparated away to Voldemort now. But he had made his choice. His father and mother had given their lives for him, and he now understood why. He was ready to give his if that's what it took to protect the ones he loved. Besides, death didn't sound like that bad a deal. He would get to be with his parents, and with Sirius…
And at least he wouldn't be there to be worshipped after Voldemort's demise. Really, if he had been famous for defeating Voldemort as a baby, which was in fact mostly his mother's doing, he didn't dare to imagine what people would think this time. He wasn't sure he wanted to be there to see it. Whatever happened tonight, everything would change. If by miracle he managed to get out of there alive, all Hogwarts students (except for Death Eaters children) would behave like Colin Creevey in his presence, and he really wasn't anxious to see that!
Which didn't mean he wanted to die, of course. He was just trying to find excuses, ways to accept his fate.
He finally arrived at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which he knew from Hermione was the limit range of the anti-apparition wards of Hogwarts. Without thinking twice, he pulled up his sleeve and touched the Dark Mark, closing his eyes. He concentrated on the darkness he felt while touching it, and thought it heard like a low hiss coming from the Dark Mark's snake.
"Follow me," it said, but Harry didn't only hear the words, he felt them too. He felt an overwhelming need to follow the snake to wherever it wanted to take him, and he suddenly understood what Snape meant. It seemed impossible to resist the call, much less try to go anywhere else.
He didn't try to resist. He let go, and suddenly found himself in front of Voldemort.
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