In the last chapter: Harry spends a laid-back and cozy Halloween with Remus for the first Hogsmead visit and Snape fills in for Remus for the full moon and acts like a huge wanker. The twins give Harry the Marauder's Map as an early Christmas gift and Harry gives them a 'special spell' in return. Harry meets with the Dementors and gains their favor.
The second Hogsmead trip of the term took place a week before school let out for break. This meant that the biting, vicious cold of winter had swept through the area without relent, stinging the flushed cheeks and capping exposed ears in frozen scarlet as the procession of giddy students made the trek to the small wizarding village. It also meant that students were in a hurry to escape the harsh weather and ducking their heads to protect their eyes from both the wind and the painful glare off the too-white snow. With everyone's attention averted the moment they stepped out into the deceptively sunny tundra, Harry knew that slipping away from the group would be far easier than he'd thought.
Remus, as one of the chaperones on the trip, had wanted to accompany Harry during the visit, but Harry made quick work of his prepared excuse to convince his guardian not to. Actually, it was the same excuse he used with his friends when they reached the village and everyone began to disentangle from the herd of students and moving into the shops. Harry just simply told them he hadn't been able to owl-order anyone's gifts because Hedwig was being stubborn in light of the especially cold winter that year and refused to make any trips that weren't absolutely necessary, so he needed to buy them at Hogsmead and didn't want any of them to know what he got them. It was believable enough since it was mostly true and most of the other students needed to do the same.
The benefit to waiting until the Hogsmead trip right before break was that everyone was trying so hard to sneak around those who they were buying gifts for, that no one would notice his lengthy absence. They would just think that he's very good at avoiding them. When Harry slipped away from his small group as they headed for Honeydukes, Only Anthony and Hermione acknowledged him, and even then, it was only for a moment to nod and hurry inside the crowded sweets shop.
Harry made his way purposefully towards a used bookshop on the other end of the shopping area. The shop didn't have much business considering there was another book shop in Hogsmead that sold all the latest material. Harry had heard rumors of the shop going out of business and the owner eager to sell it after it had been passed down through his father or something. Apparently, the new owner had his own career and wanted nothing to do with the sale of used books.
Testament to what he'd heard, when Harry entered the shop, it was completely void of people, even the owner was nowhere in sight. There was no bell above the door to announce his presence and he could faintly hear a radio on in a back room, going by the faint reedy notes seeping out through the cracks in the drafty shop, whoever was on staff then was preoccupied. It was perfect!
Harry made sure to peer out of the few small windows facing the street to guarantee that he wouldn't be seen. As such, few students ventured that far down the lane anyways, so the streets outside were empty.
From there, Harry quickly pulled on his invisibility cloak and apparated to Diagon Alley. Once again, Harry was fortunate with his timing, as those few who braved the cold did not linger in the streets and his invisible journey to Gringotts was a smooth one.
The Horcrux that he was going after this time was yet another founder's item; Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. Ironically—or perhaps unfortunately—the cup had been entrusted with Bellatrix Lestrange, the very same witch out for his head. According to his companion, the cup was in the main Lestrange vault at Gringotts and he had to break in to steal it.
Now, Harry was rather confident in his own abilities and resourcefulness in dire situations, but hearing that he'd have to break into the Goblin bank—and into one of the oldest Pureblood vaults at that—Harry had been rightfully uneasy and anxious about the whole ordeal. Frankly, he'd rather leave the cup for last and move on to the other Horcruxes instead. However, he trusted his companion and knew that Death would not send him after the cup if he didn't believe that Harry was capable.
As the brunet neared the entrance to the bank, his heart picked up a frantic beat, knowing that the archway was warded against the simpler forms of deception (glamor's, charms, polyjuice, invisibility cloaks, and so on) the wards didn't stop someone using such things from entering, nor did they undue any of the enchantments, but they did still catalog the person entering for security reasons. The Goblins probably cared little for the deceptions (if you lost your key and someone else used it, that would be your own fault) but Harry didn't have a key and he couldn't afford anyone knowing he was even there.
So, when he reached the entrance, in order to hide his magical signature, Harry transformed into his animagus while still under the cloak. Hopefully the combination of the transformation and the cloak would make him completely undetectable. Harry used wandless magic to wrap the cloak around his long body so that he wouldn't just slip right from under it and also so that no one would step on it.
Surprisingly, the bank was still rather full, despite the weather, and Harry had to be careful as he slid over the floor to avoid tripping anyone or being trampled. When Harry reached the door that led to the carts, he waited back for someone else to open it so it wouldn't seem that it was opening on its own. Nearly half an hour later, a Goblin was leading a regal-looking wizard his way and used its own creature-magic to open the door for them. Harry was close at the heels of the wizard and had to flick up his tail to avoid it being slammed in the closing steel door.
Harry slithered off to the side as the Goblin and the wizard took up a cart and shot off into the endless caves and chasms. Once alone, he was presented with a troubling issue as he transformed back into his human form. Now how in Merlin's name am I supposed to get to the vault? I can't bloody well fly!
'Cease your fretting, young one, I will assist you.' Death soothed him. Before Harry could ask just how he was planning on doing that, he felt the veil press against his skin like cool silk or an autumn rain. Harry felt like he'd just downed several calming droughts at once as he sank boneless into the embrace of the veil. It wrapped around him, but he never pierced through it or crossed over, it just held him and lifted him into the air—transparent as his invisibility cloak. Harry turned over and was practically swimming in the sighing material.
Below, Harry could see that he had drifted far from the platform where the carts docked and was continuing to fly over the seemingly-bottomless caverns that would have caused him to panic if his mind was anything but pleasant soft putty at that point. His companion chuckled at the unvoiced statement but otherwise said nothing, knowing Harry wasn't lucid enough for his usual witty remarks right then, and therefore, not a source for further entertainment.
Harry returned to himself when he was deposited in front of a very old-looking vault door. He shook the fog from his mind and forced himself to think clearly as he took in the details. This door had no key-hole, no handle, and no identifiable way of unlocking it. It complicated matters, but he only steeled his determination and tried to think.
Alright, so Bellatrix was Voldemort's most devoted follower—that was undeniable—and he'd given her something incredibly important to watch over. In order to give it the highest amount of protection, she placed in her husband's families vault instead of her personal vault just to make Harry's life that much harder! Or so he told himself.
Harry had read everything he could on Gringotts before that day, but unfortunately, the Goblins were extremely strict about their security and tight-lipped about the different kinds they used. Everything Harry knew about the bank either came from what little information was recorded in books, word of mouth, or his own experience there. The only source with sufficient information came from the rumors and theories people spread, which were immensely varied considering that the Goblins employed a multitude of different measures for each set of family vaults at different costs to each customer.
However, there were a few rumors that could help him. Silently striding away from the vault, Harry peaked around the corner of the short hallway and spotted the enormous pale form of leathery skin stretched over wiry muscles and a protruding skeletal frame. Harry's rush of triumph was only dampened by the sight of grotesque open wounds on the creature's body that looked both old and fresh. The sickening amount of scar tissue and constant shudders and faint hissing whines of the dragon had Harry's stomach turning.
Moving back towards the vault before he ended up sick all over his robes, Harry focused on the useful information he'd just obtained. If the Goblins were using a Dragon to guard a few old pureblood vaults, then the door lock was most likely activated by voice or a biological sample such as blood or hair. It was a smart bit of security. Within the wizarding world, one thing that was almost impossible to replicate was a person's voice. Even with polyjuice potion, the voice would remain unaffected by the physical changes otherwise enacted. The voice, like a name, held power. It was why using incantations with spells was so important; it worked as another tool to guide the flow of magic at a person's will.
So anything voice-activated was inherently of high-security. If this were anyone else's vault, Harry would have a very tough time of getting in. Fortunately, Bellatrix was disgustingly loyal to her master and said master was paranoid to the point of utter insanity considering his already fragile mental stability with the multiple Horcruxes. If Voldemort gave Bellatrix his Horcrux, there was no possibility he wouldn't have ensured a way in which he could retrieve it without her if need be. Add on top of that his precarious condition of occasionally possessing people to stay alive and he couldn't leave it to just activate with his voice, as it would change dramatically with different people.
Harry grinned as he figured it out. No, the only way to ensure only Voldemort and the Lestranges could enter the vault would be to use the skill Voldemort believed himself to be the only one to possess. Parseltongue.
"Open."Harry waited a moment, but nothing happened. Frowning, Harry tried again. "Voldemort." It was a shot in the dark, but Harry quirked a brow when he heard a click, but the door did not open. Perhaps it is more than the language, and I need to say a specific phrase to open it. Well, obviously 'Voldemort' is part of it. Contemplating for a long moment, the answer suddenly carved itself in burning letters into the forefront of his mind. Hoping that there wasn't some sort of consequence after two tries, Harry spoke once more. "I am Lord Voldemort." Three more clicks and the door popped open with a heavy groan.
Sighing in relief, Harry slipped through the crack and produced a wandless lumos to float up in front of him and illuminate the piles of old family fortune, treasure, and undeniably dark artifacts.
'Careful, Harry, every object in here is cursed with both Flagrante and Geminio. They will sear flesh at the lightest touch and duplicate at the smallest disturbance. Many dark pureblood families use them as a defense against thieves to burn and burry them alive. Proceed with caution.' His friend warned and Harry was thankful as he caught himself from touching one of the goblets near him to inspect it closer. Harry also shed his invisibility cloak to keep it from dragging on the ground and touching anything.
Moving to the center of the room, Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself to open himself up to the magic in the room so that he might sense the Horcrux within. When Harry felt it, he nearly stumbled forward at the sudden ache in his chest to touch it. It had been so long since he'd had the other Horcruxes within his reach, and he was shocked to realized how much their absence weighed on him.
The cup was on a shelf high up on the back wall with a table piled high with cursed objects between them. The only way to reach the cup would be to climb up on the table and only those keyed into the vault's enchantments could do so without setting off the curses and the same went for spell casting, only those keyed into the wards could do it. With no other way of reaching it, Harry asked for Death's assistance once more and he was wrapped in the trance-inducing veil and lifted to a height in which he could reach the cup. The cup was one of the few items not cursed, as such weak curses would degrade and erode on an item as dark as a Horcrux.
As Harry was put back on the ground and his mind slowly came back online, he couldn't help but thinking that the cup was a lot smaller than he'd expected, and it almost looked . . . dainty. Harry forced down the smile that tried to carve itself into his expression as he left the vault and closed it behind him with wandless magic.
When Harry reached the area with the dragon, he couldn't seem to make himself leave. All he could do was stare at the pathetic creature with a pinched expression. After only Merlin knows how long, his companion spoke up and caused him to jump at the sudden interruption.
'Poor creature. It has lived only a life of pain and fear and rage. The only compassion it will ever see is ours.' Harry was shaken by the serious tone of his usually indifferent or bored friend. Harry didn't reply, he knew exactly what he'd meant by 'our compassion.' As much as Harry wanted to severe the chains binding the beast and allow it to tear a horrible path through the bank so that it might be free, he knew that such a thing was impossible.
Not only did he need to be stealthy to ever hope to be able to escape, he could see from where he stood that among the old injuries, huge slices had been made in the leathery wings, rendering flight impossible. Besides, even if the Dragon could fly, the world beyond was not endless forests for it to hide in, it was brick and glass buildings as far as the eye could see. The dragon would only be caught and dragged back immediately after. The world had changed, become unsuitable for even half of the magical creatures to live in, it was why there were such places as dragon sanctuaries.
Harry felt his magic seep out from his core and wrap around him. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry stepped out from behind the corner and came into full view of the dragon. The dragon instantly noticed him and began to growl menacingly at him. Slowing his approach, Harry lifted his hands in a soothing gesture and shushed the creature to try to sooth it, slipping into parseltongue to convey words of comfort even if dragons and serpents were only cousins and the dragon would not be able to comprehend the language.
His efforts paid off when it stopped growling and settled back against the wall, collapsing in an exhausted manner that made Harry wince at the pained whine it emitted. Continuing his slow approach, Harry's magic reached out and enfolded the creature to chase away the pain in its body and causing it to sink further down and rest its head upon the ground. Eventually he stopped just before the large pale head of the dragon and knelt down when it didn't otherwise react.
Harry's hands came into contact with the cold scales and he gently smoothed his palms over them as the dragon let out a mournful plea that trilled through its rumbling vocal cords. Harry felt the hot breath against his knees and the tops of his thighs as the eyes slowly closed.
"Shhhh, it is alright, dear one. I will take away your pain, you will suffer no longer." Harry's chest clenched as he spoke these unheard promises. Harry felt the veil draped over him like a cloak as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to the massive pearlescent expanse of the dragon's. Using even more magic, Harry combed all of the pain out of every inch of the creature and continued to whisper comforting placates.
Harry took a deep, shuddering breath as he gathered the invigoratingly cold sensation behind his lungs and felt two gentle hands of blackened bone settle on his shoulders. With one last caress of its head and painful words of whispered mercy, Harry tilted his chin forward and pressed his lips to the very center of the being's head. Harry felt something cool pass from him to the creature at the contact and the hot breath on his knees left indefinitely with a sigh.
Harry stayed only long enough to feel the being's soul pulled through the veil and be assured by Death that it would never feel pain again.
Mercy, like Death, was fickle almost to the point of cruelty. It did not come when called nor did it bow to any master. While Death left unfillable holes in life, Mercy was a temptress of lies and all too elusive.
Harry said nothing as he was once again wrapped in the veil and returned to the cart platform. It wasn't until Harry had returned to Hogsmead, cup sealed and warded in a hidden pocket inside his robes, and began actually shopping did his mind let the weighted thoughts go to sink under the surface of his consciousness. By the time Harry finished and located his friends, they were all laughing over a warm butterbeer at The Three Broom Sticks.
"Bout bloody time, Harry! You must be even more indecisive when it comes to shopping than Anthony!" Draco exclaimed when he was spotted. Anthony flushed and shot Draco a mild glare. "Who knew one could spend an hour picking out wrapping paper!?" Draco whined dramatically, causing the others to look pointedly at him, knowing that the blonde was in no position to comment on wasting time on material things.
Harry chuckled and sat with his friends for a while. When Harry had returned from Gringotts, it was already getting close to the early winter dusk and most students had returned to Hogwarts while the few remaining were enjoying a bit of food or hot beverage in one of the local pubs. And so, not long after Harry found them, the group of four were getting up to leave.
Harry was the last to step out of the pub, so no one noticed him freeze, his eyes glued to the sky. Among the cloud cover, faint flitting shadows caught Harry's attention as they all seemed to be rushing towards the wooded area between Hogsmead and the Shrieking Shack. Reacting quickly, Harry jogged up to his friends and got their attention.
"Oi! I completely forgot to get Hedwig those special treats she likes! You guys go on ahead, I'm right behind you." Harry was off before any of them could respond, moving in the direction of the dementors (and fortunately the pet shop as well). When Harry neared the shop, he checked that they were all out of sight before running off towards the tree line as he pulled out his cloak and threw it on.
When Harry neared the Shrieking Shack he stopped at the tree line to watch from behind a thick pine as something unexpected happened.
There, standing in snow passed her ankles with wild curly black hair poking out in every which way, was Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry watched curiously as more than forty dementors descended from the sky and the ragged woman snarled before jumping into battle. If one could really call it 'battle.' One could only truly fend off dementors with the patronus charm (if one wasn't versed in necromancy, that is) and Harry highly doubted that the witch bothered to learn such a light spell.
Instead, she was casting dark spell after dark spell at the approaching throng that had encircled her to try to at least force them back long enough to try to escape. However, throwing dark spells at a dementor was about as effective as using a water gun on a fish. Harry could see the panic jolting and stiffening each muscle and each joint as they drew closer. She knew the truth of the situation, they weren't going to bring her back to Azkaban, no their orders were to give her the kiss on sight. Her life would end there in the snow; cold, alone, probably in pain. As near-skeletal hands reached out for her frail shoulders, Harry's mind suddenly filled with the image of pearlescent scales and he pulled off his cloak.
{Wait!} As one, the creatures froze and turned to look at Harry as he stepped into the clearing. Frantic dark eyes caught on him and for a moment Harry swore he saw utter confusion before a terrifying glee swept through the witch's expression. That is, until she noticed that she was no longer being attacked and the dementors were all watching Harry intently.
{I know that you have orders, but if you wouldn't mind, I would like to speak to her for a moment.} Harry queried politely, not entirely sure what he was looking for, but needing the chance to look anyways.
The dementor closest to Bellatrix bowed its head once before they all drifted back as one. The witch in question restrained her expressions and only watched everything with hard suspicion. When the dementors were far enough away for Bellatrix to take her eyes off them, her sharp gaze turned on Harry and she seemed to thinking very hard about something.
Harry stood a few meters away and didn't say anything for a long while, doing some cataloging of his own. She's more lucid than I expected, not that I've seen much, but her reflexes are fast and she hasn't leapt at me yet to tear my face off or anything. Harry internally noted as he watched those nearly coal-black eyes flit from Harry to the dementors and back again. Finally, she spoke.
"You speak to them." It wasn't a question, so Harry didn't answer, but continued to watch her with a blank face.
Finally, he said, "I hear that you are after me . . . why?" Harry's serine tone and blank face were an unnerving combination, but they had little effect other than confusing the Azkaban-escapee. She was unsure what he was playing at and remained on her guard.
"It is my duty to collect payment for taking my master's life. Come willingly and I vow your death will be a quick one. I do not much care for the suffering of children, but a debt must be paid." It was rather unsettling the way her voice lilted melodically over the cruel words and her eyes never blinked as she watched Harry.
None the less, Avada green eyes held her gaze unwaveringly and she couldn't help but think of a porcelain doll the way they shined, the way that smooth ivory skin just barely dusted pale rose at his cheeks and the full child-like pouted lips looked stained from the cherry lollies she remembered from her childhood that left phantom tangs on her tongue. In a moment of drifting focus, she mauled over thoughts of brushing his shining raven hair reverently, putting him in pretty clothes, and sitting him on her shelf so those cleaving eyes could slice through everyone who dared cross their path with arctic precision. She imagined some of the more irritating cowards she'd worked with before Azkaban kneeling and trembling under the weight of that gaze and waiting in the haunting silence as he was doing to her now.
Harry spoke up and drew back the attention of the witch when he noticed her eyes beginning to glaze.
"That would be entirely unnecessary. I'm afraid you do not know the whole truth, for your master is, in fact, still very much alive." The simplicity of the statement only put Bellatrix more on edge, Harry could see it in her suddenly ridged posture.
"Tsk, tsk, such young children should not tell lies." She crooned, the jackal behind her aristocratic face bleeding through. Harry pushed down any annoyance at being called a child and continued.
"If I were trying for my life, I would hardly use that as a means of bargaining. All I am doing is informing you that your master is alive, and therefore you might need to reassess this need for revenge. Besides, as I see it, you are at the sword's tip," Harry nodded towards the circle of dementors just waiting for his say-so. "I am offering you the chance to go find your master and not try to attempt something that will only end needlessly in your death."
"Even if you were telling the truth, why tell me this?" She asked skeptically.
Harry pursed his lips as he thought.
"Let's just say that there are many shifting pieces on the board right now but the sides are too uneven. The more variables, the more outcomes to aim for. My offer is as stands, either you leave this place and go in search of the Dark Lord, or I hand you over to the dementors. It's rather simple, and if you go searching and cannot find your master, I will still be here or within reach." The frivolity in which Harry accepted his possible death would lead Bellatrix to either give up right then, or call his bluff—not that it was a bluff. Harry already had a fairly good idea of which she would choose.
Bellatrix glanced once again between the dementors and Harry before smirking slyly.
"You are rather the enigma, Harry Potter. This isn't over, little bird, for I see you and do not doubt I will come back for you. I am quite fond of puzzles and 'convoluted' seems to trail over you like a cloak." Bellatrix grinned ferally, tone becoming rough and reedy with the challenge. "Until we meet again, commandant of dementors and enticingly frigid child." With a dramatic whirl of wicked obsidian curls and dirty black dress folds, Bellatrix Lestrange disapparated with a disturbing cackle that echoed through the winter air rapidly approaching night for moments after she'd already gone.
{I apologize for not asking you first, it was disrespectful of me to do so, but that witch has become an important piece in the grand scheme of things and I could get quite a lot of use out of her. This will, of course, be considered a favor on your part and I will owe you whatever you see fit} Harry graciously apologized, having not planned on letting her go until he was already too deep in pushing her down the path he wanted. The dementors drifted closer at a relaxed pace and one close to him raised a hand in appeasement.
{Quiet, young Harry, it is alright. From what we can gather, the wizards do not truly expect us to catch her for she is rather . . . slippery.To know that we were able to hunt her and catch the witch was enough entertainment for us, the cost of this favor will not be steep, so do not fret.}
With a grateful nod from Harry, the dementors departed and Harry began to make his way back to the castle as quick as he dared on the icy path. In Harry's churning tarred thoughts on the journey back, he barely noticed his fingers slipping into an inner cloak pocket and brushing softly over the warm metal within.
The smart scratch of an expensive quill over rough parchment and aggravated huffs were the only sound filling the empty classroom. The reflected sunlight refracted off the sparkling snow outside and beamed in through the windows, making the DADA classroom unusually bright and welcoming. The haughty professor glared down his large hooked nose at the abysmal essay currently being inked with an almost grotesque amount of red slashes of ink that was too similar to the color of arterial blood to settle right with him.
Snape was just slapping said essay aggressively onto the growing pile of failed course work when his name was called to grab his attention. Startled that he'd not heard anyone approach, Severus' head snapped up and he nearly choked on his own tongue. Headmaster Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, was currently discussing the practicality of investing in new desks for the students while clad in nothing but a tight sky blue speedo with one hand on the back of his head and the other hand on his hip as he rolled his hips in a rhythmic fashion.
Snape sat horrified at all of the exposed wrinkled skin and liver spots while the old wizard then cranked it up a hundred notches by hiking his foot up on Snape's desk and continuing the graphic motion. Snape felt supremely ill but his torment did not end there. One after another, his colleagues entered the class room to talk about other inconsequential drivel while dressed in highly inappropriate attire and proceeding to thrust, gyrate, jiggle, and grope as some sort of strange music filled the room until it shook his bones and he felt like his stomach would never settle again.
From McGonagall in lime spandex and a tube top working on her downward dog to Hagrid in metallic gold hot pants rubbing baby oil on his oh so hairy chest jumping and jerking to the beat to Flitwick in neon pink fishnet stockings and platform heels doing the sensual Macarena to Madam Pomfrey throwing her rump every which way in a grass skirt and coconut-bra, Severus wanted to ripe his eyes from his skull but the realm that must have been hell would not allow him to close his eyes or look away.
With a horrified shout, Severus shot up straight in his bed, clutching at his chest and breathing hard as the images continued to pour in like he were not yet awake. Groaning, Snape viciously rubbed at his eyes and wished the recent insanity plaguing his every waking minute would just end! He didn't know how many times he could watch Dumbledore give him a lap dance before he truly went mad.
AUTHOR'S NOTE/: There you guys go! A lot of you really wanted some mentally-tortured-Snape content, so there it is! I may or may not put more in later, but hopefully that is enough visuals for everyone. It's what you guys asked for!
Anyways! Thank you all for all of the love and support! It makes my entire week every time I find another comment from one of you (yes, I read every single one of them, even if I'm super bad at replying or contributing to what fantastic thing you guys all have to say!) Have a wonderful day/evening everyone!
-Pleasant Readings!
