Note: First, I want to apologize for the long wait in-between chapters. I know it has to be frustrating and I have probably lost a few readers because of it. Second, I want to thank everyone who has stuck with it despite my atrocious upload time. Your reviews and kind words keep me going.
Severus felt the boy stumble at his side and he quickly tightened his grip in attempt to steady him. He could only imagine the pain he was feeling after multiple apparitions. With any luck they would be able to heal the wounds within the week and then they would be gone. Moving again was a risk he was not willing to take just yet. For now, they were safe.
The arm he was holding was suddenly twisted away. Turning, he caught a glimpse of the red wave of embarrassment consuming Potter's face before the boy stalked away.
"Where do you think you're going," Severus snapped but the question went unanswered as Potter disappeared down the hill. He took one step in a feeble attempt to follow but pulled up short. If the boy wanted space, so be it; there was little chance of anyone attacking him just outside the wards he had placed upon the camp.With a shake of his head, Severus returned instead to the tent.
Inside, the air was cool beneath the shade of the tall canopy ceiling. His eyes were immediately drawn to the vacant beds; a short nap seemed perfect after the restless night he had had but no, there was work to be done. Stifling a yawn, he tossed the bag they had recovered onto the table next to the leftover apple from their breakfasts. He sat down and, drawing the bag closer, began to riffle through the clutter that lie inside.
He removed book after book until a large stack of over a dozen towered beside him. It wasn't surprising, after all the Granger girl had always been keen on reading; however, very few of these titles would provide any great help to them. Picking up 'Secrets of the Darkest Arts', he thumbed through the pages until he had found the passage he had read previously. It was short but offered detailed instructions on how to make a Horcrux. Grabbing a piece of parchment, ink, and quill, Severus began to jot down several notes. His slender, albeit messy, handwriting stretched across the tan paper as thoughts, or perhaps more precisely theories, came into his mind.
After several minutes of only the scratching of quill against parchment, Severus sighed in frustration and dropped the eagle feather to the table. How could he begin to piece together such a riddle? Surely, Dumbledore had tasked Potter with finding the Horcrux but with the boy's deliberate disinterest in helping it would be impossible to find such an object. And surely whatever the Dark Lord had deemed worthy enough to house part of his soul would be well protected.
Anger boiling, Severus gritted his teeth and was about to toss the book across the tent when a noise came from the entrance. Potter stepped through the flap, silhouetted momentarily by the blinding sunlight at his back. As the canvas closed, Severus could see the bloodshot eyes beneath the round glasses turn towards him curiously. His anger rose as the gaze flickered immediately away; the boy was far to gone to be of any use. He would have to shoulder this on his own. Sucking at his teeth, he glared down at the parchment before him, the impossibility mocking him in his own handwriting.
To his surprise, Potter sat down opposite of him at the table. He was scanning the parchment and without a word he tugged it from under Severus's hand and reached for the quill. The boy began making a list of what appeared to be six items. The process was slow, as if he were having trouble remembering how exactly letters worked, but after a minute he seemed satisfied with his work.
"These are what Professor Dumbledore assumed to be Horcruxes," he said in a nasally voice of someone who had been crying for hours. "The diary," he scratched a line through the word he had written, "was destroyed in my second year. The ring," he drew another line but Severus was quickly catching on.
"Was the one he put on during the summer holiday," he interjected and pulled the parchment back across the table. His black eyes scanned the remaining items, astounded by the fact that they were now facing more than just one. "The one that cursed him. He managed to destroy it?"
Potter nodded without looking up. "The locket was stolen by Mundungus Fletcher but he had no idea what it was. He was just looking to make a few Galleons off the stuff he had knicked from Sirius. I'm guessing the Dark Lord has already found him by now," he added the last part dully as if it were just another obstacle thrown in their way.
"Actually," Severus began as he straightened in his chair, "he hasn't. Mundungus has proven particularly slippery. He was nearly caught in Diagon Alley a few months ago but has since disappeared."
Potter lifted his head in surprise but quickly averted his gaze as Severus met his eye.
"So it could be anywhere then," Potter mumbled. "The same with the cup and whatever he found from Ravenclaw. The snake obviously never leaves his side."
Severus sat staring at the parchment before him, dumbfounded by the all the new information. Why hadn't he told the Order any of this?
"Dumbledore told you all of this?"
Potter nodded. "That's what all those private lessons were about."
"And he gave you no other instructions," Severus asked, trying and failing to cover the disdain in his voice. "Not where to look or how to destroy them?"
The boy shook his head without looking up and Severus felt the familiar irritation return.
"Are you sure you didn't miss something," he growled, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Is there any detail you're holding out on?"
"No! Why would I even bring it up if I was going to lie..."
"Because there has to be something more than this," Severus seethed, jabbing the parchment between them with a thin finger. He eyed Potter with a contemptuous glare, every ounce of frustration ready to pour out on the boy sitting before him.
Potter's lips pressed into a thin line and his cheeks flushed crimson. He would surely have some sort of witty response or, if nothing else, a tirade of insults; however neither came and, instead, the boy flinched away as if nervous. The pity Severus had felt before did not surface this time.
"What did I actually expect," Severus spat as he slammed his balled fist down and rose to his feet. Grinding his crooked teeth, he tried to fight down his own annoyance, to see that the boy could not be held responsible for Dumbledore's mistakes. "You were always..." He managed to cut himself off, stifling the remainder of that derogatory accusation.
For a long moment only the sounds of the forest could be heard as a silence as thick as fog settled between them. A soft breeze ruffled the tent wall and Severus forced himself to focus on the rippling shadows projected there, his chest heaving with the strain of repressing his thoughts. He let his eyes close and then let out a long sigh.
"Forget it," he mumbled though there was still an edge to his words. "We can figure it out in the morning."
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
The sun had just started to slip behind the hills in the west as Harry stood in the entrance of the tent. Above the swaying tree tops, the sky was a spiraling mixture of deep purple, orange, and wisps of pink. A cool breeze brushed his face, bringing with it the relaxing smell of sweet grass. He breathed it in deeply and was momentarily blind to the troubles building around him. The relief, however, didn't last long.
A low rumble built in his stomach and he pressed a hand against it. He had become so use to the potions that had been used to keep him alive that, at first, he didn't recognize it as hunger pains. How long had it been since he had had free range of food?
Turning, he made his way back to the table where the loaf of bread was still sitting. He tore off a large piece before settling into a seat with a huff. The outside crust had already become slightly stale but the white inside was still soft and delicious. He took a large bite and then reminded himself that he had to chew it.
The parchment they had abandoned earlier lay before him and he turned it around to read what Snape had been writing before he had come back. The scratchy writing held little in the way of useful information but Harry couldn't help but stare at it. How had he not connected that messy scrawl to the one written in the margins of his potions book? Staring at it now, there was no mistaking the likeness. Would he have been so quick to follow those instructions if he had known who had written them? His mind wandered to the spell he had used on Malfoy and that gruesome scene in the lavatory surfaced, still as vivid as the day it had happened. Who would invent such a curse?
A loud grunt came from the bottom bunk across the tent, startling Harry out of his thoughts. His eyes rose to the man who tossed to his side before settling back into sleep. This was the same man who had killed Dumbledore, the same man who had stood by and watched him and his friends be tortured, the same man who had beat him a few days prior.
"You can't trust him."
Harry shook his head in an attempt to chase away that intrusive thought. Snape had had every opportunity to either kill him or turn him over to the Dark Lord. And yet...
"He is manipulating you."
Poking a piece of bread into his mouth, Harry couldn't help but ponder this thought. What if this was part of some greater plan to draw out the remaining Order members?
"Run," the voice encouraged softy and Harry's eyes fell to his wand lying on the table. He could take it and leave before Snape woke up; nothing was standing in his way. But where would he go?
"It doesn't matter. Just get far away from here. From him.
As quiet as possible, Harry rose from the table and pocketed his wand and then began to gather the remaining things back into the beaded bag. He took the books and what little was left of the food and then left the tent without looking back. He could set off now and figure out the rest along the way. Maybe start at the Burrow...
The idea stopped him short. The Weasley's had already lost two children because of him and going there would surely put them in danger; besides, there was no guarantee they would even want to see him. As his mind whirled around where he would go, the realization hit him; he was truly alone. Leaving now would be the worst mistake he could make.
The sun had vanished; its beautiful array of colors overtaken by the black star-spotted night sky. Harry stood at the edge of camp and willed himself to leave.
"Hurry," the voice in his mind pleaded. "Before he wakes up."
He took another step but stopped again. He couldn't just leave without any idea of where to go next. He had no place to stay, no food, no idea if he could even perform magic anymore. He would be an easy target for the Death Eaters.
A sudden burst of anger flared inside him and he tried to place where it was coming from, however, a serires of loud cracks quickly replaced it with fear. Out of the night he could see shapes moving along the tree line below him. Their cloak tails fluttered in the cool breeze as they drew closer, each step crackling against the foliage underfoot. Stricken with fear, Harry could only watch in a stunned silence.
"No sign of them," a gruff voice called out and then was quickly met with a series of reproachful shushing.
"Why not just announce our presence next time," came an all to familiar female voice.
The blood in Harry's veins ran cold and his legs nearly buckled. Bellatrix Lestrange was mere feet from him now, close enough that he could make out the scowl forming upon her face.
"They've definitely been here," a male voice said in a hushed tone. "There's footprints leading down to the river."
"Those could be anybody's," the gruff man argued.
"Spread out and keep looking," Bellatrix barked, annoyance clear in her voice. She gave her wand a flick and light poured through the darkness. The others followed suit until there were nearly half a dozen white beams floating around the forest, casting long eerie shadows across the ground.
Harry knew he needed to wake Snape and yet his feet seemed glued in place. Would they hear his footsteps? Surely the protections would cover any sounds he made. He was just about to turn back when another loud crack broke the silence once more.
"Where are they," a high pitched voice rang out directly to Harry's left.
It took every ounce of Harry's restraint not to scream. He covered his gaping mouth with a balled fist as Bellatrix's wand light fell on the man now standing only feet from the wards protecting them. Those red eyes scanned the search party before falling on the woman before him.
"Nothing yet, My Lord," she said with a bow. "We are searching the area but have only found footprints."
"They are here," Voldemort hissed and his eyes narrowed. He took a step forward and Harry took his own retreating step.
A hand grasped his shoulder, fingers digging deep into the flesh. He jumped and was about to let out a startled cry when a hand clamped over his mouth.
"Don't scream," Snape whispered directly into his ear, his breath hot against Harry's cheek. "The enchantments should keep us concealed but I would rather not test them."
Harry nodded shortly and Snape released his grip. The professor's face was stark white in the lights that now surrounded them and eyes flicked from one dark figure to the next.
"How long have they been searching," he hissed so softly that Harry had to strain to hear him.
"Not long," he whispered back but Voldemort was speaking again, his loud voice carrying through the silent forest.
"Come out, Potter," he called as he paced forward another step. They were nearly toe to toe now. "Come out now and I will let you watch as I kill the traitor you are with. After all, think about what he has done. All of those lives lost because of him."
Harry met Snape's eye and the man licked his lips nervously before fixing him with a stern look. It was a terrible proposition and yet part of Harry couldn't deny the feeling of longing creeping into the back of his mind.
"That's right. You can not deny the amount of joy it would bring you to watch him hurt just as you have hurt. I see it clearly in your mind."
"Potter," Snape whispered urgently. "You have to block him out or he will find us. Close your mind."
"I know," snapped Harry. He brought his hands up to the side of his head and gripped his temples. Anger not his own spread like wild fire through his body, overtaking his own fear.
"You can not hide forever," Voldemort called as he turned to survery the darkness around him. "That fear that has been building; that constant thought of betrayal.. It's true. Severus will turn on you just as he has turned on everyone else in his life."
"We have to go," Snape said shortly. Turning, he began to deconstruct the tent with a wave of his wand but Harry couldn't look away from the man pacing before him.
"Is it true," he asked quietly, more to himself than anyone.
"What?" Snape whirled on him, face twisted into a deep scowl. He seemed ready to argue but then his coal black eyes scanned their surroundings. "We don't have time for this."
Voldemort was now walking in the opposite direction, his Death Eaters still scouring the area, searching for any sign that might be hiding in the under brush. Harry could feel the the Dark Lord's fury rising higher and he closed his eyes in an attempt to block it out. The mixture of it and his own anxiety pressed excruciatingly against his brain until he felt like screaming. His mind would surely tear in two as the polar opposite feelings fought against each other.
A loud bang, like a gunshot,rang through the still night air. Harry pried his eyes open to find the world splintering around them. Tiny spiderweb like cracks were forming on what had to be the magical walls that surrounded their camp, and just outside he could see Voldemort standing with his wand raised high. His focus was now directed towards them, a victorious sneer brightening his face.
Snape's face drained of color and he quickly stowed the impossibly small tent inside his back trouser pocket. He locked eyes with Harry and opened his mouth to speak when another bang erupted. The cracks grew larger, spreading like thin ice splitting under a heavy foot. It wouldn't take much more before they burst altogether.
"Harry get over here," Snape yelled, no longer bothering to stay quiet. Their hiding place had been found and if they didn't move quickly they would soon be caught.
Harry only hesitated a second but it was long enough for the third and final explosion to destroy their protections. He didn't have to look back to know that Voldemort's wand was trained on him. He bolted towards Snape's outstretched hand without glancing back, diving for it as a rain of spells pelted around them.
A burning hot pain tore along his right side as his fingertips hooked Snape's hand. He let out a shrill cry but it was lost as the darkness pressed in around him, trapping the scream inside his compressed lungs. He was being twisted away to what he hoped was safety.