Chapter Twenty-Five

Severus remained entirely still.

He daren't move, not since the moment Lestrange had torn Harry up from the ground and put into action the steps that would see to the boy's escape - so long as Harry didn't opt to spend his confinement drowning in self-pity, that is - simply, a cell, secured by an enchantment that only a Death Eater would know how to break, and a wand, carelessly disregarded just within reach of it.

There was nothing suspicious about it, Severus had seen to that; Lestrange was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal, he would not dream of defying him, no. Severus had simply had to ensure that his actions under the Imperius implicated inadequacy, a damning oversight, rather than treachery, and now it was up to Harry.

Severus prayed he had not overestimated him.

The white smoke rising from the cauldron intensified, signalling the impending completion of the resurrection, the imminent rise of the Dark Lord.

Only Severus' eyes moved, behind the cover of his mask, glancing in the direction of the cottage that Lestrange had not long returned from, and, when he did, he caught sight of a figure – barely perceptible in the darkness – in the near distance behind it, hastening in the direction of the trees.

Severus' lips twitched.

The boy had brains, then.

That was the only thought he had time to form, the little flicker of triumph that everything had fallen into place the way he had hoped lasting merely a second, before it quickly turned to dreadful expectancy, as amongst the vapours emitting from the cauldron a figure suddenly formed, ascending and then alighting upon the ground.

The ritual complete.

The Dark Lord had risen once more.

Severus swept forward with the awaiting robe, covering his master.

And then he and all others present fell to their knees before him.

Severus, being the closest, pressed the first kiss to the hem of the robe that cloaked him, and the others followed suit.

It was a slow, long, theatrical display that always took place at the commencement of their assemblages, but Severus was glad of it, for every moment spent simpering on his knees was another step that Harry was taking in the opposite direction.

Run, boy.

"Friends," the Dark Lord's eyes swept the Circle and all followers kept their heads bowed low, their knees to the ground; "Your loyalty, your diligence to our task has finally reached fruition. At last, our waiting is over. You have served me well."

Severus felt the Dark Lord's eyes upon him, as he kept his position at his feet, as he spoke the next words; "Most of you. For certain."

The tone was not as accusatory as Severus feared they might be; rather, they were pondering, as if there actually was a chance he may just be able to secure his position once more, but Severus could not be glad or dwell on the thought for long, as the Dark Lord's attention swiftly turned from him to that which Severus feared for far more.

"But where is our guest of honour? Where is Harry Potter?"

"My Lord," Lestrange spoke up, though he remained in his low position, not raising his head; "The boy is apprehended in his cell."

"In his cell? Where he is missing out on the celebrations; we can't have that. Bring him before me."

"Yes, my Lord," Lestrange was on his feet and heading in the direction of the cottage without a seconds hesitation and Severus felt his stomach coil in dreaded anticipation.

The Dark Lord breathed a grumble that was almost laughter; "You shall all bear witness as I, finally, put to rest these foul whispers that have haunted us for these past six years. Whispers that a boy, a child, should have the power to bring me to my knees. Fooled twice, the vermin of this world have been; they have learnt nothing from the Longbottom boy."

The dark wizard swept the circle in slow, deliberate strides as he spoke, no doubt plotting the precise way in which he intended to carry out the task, the murder of his foe, and Severus willed it with all his might that Harry was long, long gone, but he knew he couldn't have gotten far, certainly not far enough.

"And then," the Dark Lord continued, already seeming to be basking in triumph though the act had not yet been carried out; "We shall rise, once more, and put end to all of those who dared even breathe the words and worship this child. The Boy Who Lived."

The Dark Lord ended on a sneer, just as Lestrange returned to the congregation of Death Eaters, far less enthusiastic to return as he had been to leave.

"My Lord."

Severus could already hear the panic.

"Lestrange. You return without the boy."

The Dark Lord's tone was no longer triumphant. It was clipped. Cold. As if the dark wizard already knew what was coming.

A roiling of tense anticipation passed over the Circle, all immediately overcome with uneasy suspicion of what their comrade had to say, before Lestrange made to speak.

"My Lord," the tone of Lestrange's voice was a notch higher than his usual timbre; "He has…it seems…" He seemed desperate to convey an air of control, which failed miserably in light of the way his voice tremored ever so slightly on the final word; "The boy is no longer in his cell, my Lord. It seems he has…escaped."

A deathly silence fell upon them.

Only the sound of a low 'hiss' from Nagini, as the snake slithered across the centre of the circle broke the quiet, almost as if the serpent were connected to the very thoughts and feelings of the Dark Lord, himself.

Which, of course, it was.

"Escaped?"

The Dark Lord's words came out as a hiss.

And then he gave a sharp nod in Lucius' direction and he, along with Yaxley and Macnair, were on their feet and immediately dispatched, without verbal orders, to begin the hunt.

The rest of them stayed where they were in the dirt, still as stone, the Dark Lord's glee at being revived snuffed out and replaced with a far more familiar, a far more terrifying alternative, and he immediately addressed Lestrange – one of his most loyal – with deceptive coolness.

"Explain to me, Lestrange, how this could have possibly come about?"

"My Lord, I cannot understand it myself," Lestrange said it, as if he were trying to stop himself from blurting out the explanation, in desperation, as they all knew that tone; "I placed the cell under our most secure of incantations. Only a Death Eater would know how to counter it. It is impossible that he could have escaped!"

"And yet it is not."

"My Lord –" it was almost pleading.

It was pleading.

"Look at me."

Severus, all of them, knew what that meant and what was coming next.

It was not arrogance, no, that Severus knew his role in all of this would not be discovered through such methods as legilliemency - he was careful enough to never be seen face on by his fellow – nor was it arrogance that told Severus that his skills in casting the Imperius Curse were so advanced that not a trace of his involvement would be detected, not a trace of the magic at all.

It was simply fact.

As such, it was no surprise to him, moments later, the next words that were spoken.

"Avada Kedavra."

With a thud, Lestrange fell down dead.

No one reacted.

Not even the man's wife, who stood several feet from the body.

The first of the fallen.

The Dark Lord spoke as if nothing had occurred; "He cannot have gotten far. The rest of you; find him," the remaining followers got to their feet as he carried on, giving out clipped orders; "Alive. I will kill him myself."

Severus immediately swept East, in the direction he had seen Harry run.

Harry stumbled.

His knee collided sharply with the ground or a log or a rock or something, but he ignored the searing pain that shot through it as he fell, scrambling with his hands against the fallen forestry of the ground and hurried onwards, pushing himself back to his feet.

Harry had run the moment he had reached the shelter of the trees, not stopping or, even, looking back and he had no idea where he was or where he was going, only that anywhere was better than where he had been. And so, he ran and ran, entirely uncertain if that's what he should be doing.

He had faltered, as he wondered whether or not he should have stayed put and waited for Snape, but he, instinctively, knew, that to do so would be stupid. He had been given the incantation to get out of there and, after that, he was on his own.

But whether he should keep running or whether he should hunker down and hide, Harry didn't know, kept thinking it, even as his feet carried him further and further, his breaths coming in harsh pants and his sides aching and his heart thudding so hard it would soon burst from his chest.

Harry had no idea where he was.

This wasn't the Forbidden Forest but it wasn't a woodland he recognised, either. They definitely weren't anywhere near the Burrow, anymore.

He stumbled again, his foot catching the shrubbery, and he hit the ground on all fours, that time, gasping for breath.

He couldn't stop.

He had to run.

Harry pushed himself back to his feet, clutching one of his sides as he did, and he dared a glance in the distance behind him but could see nothing, the thick leaves of the trees shielding out the moonlight and he daren't light his wand.

He began to turn but hadn't moved his feet.

And, so, the stirring of leaves, that dreadful sound, could not have been him which meant he was no longer alone.

It did not take long for Severus to come upon him.

But he had an advantage.

He knew these woods, had wandered them with the scouts, and, feeling pretty certain that Harry would just continue to run straight – there were no dangerous magical creatures or inhabitants within these woods that would throw him off course – Severus had simply apparated as soon as he was out of sight of his fellow Death Eaters to a spot he roughly guessed Harry would have reached in the time since his escape.

Severus ended up further ahead of him; Harry appeared, rushing into the vicinity, mere seconds later, some distance behind but within sight, and Severus had carefully hid and then followed when he eventually passed him.

Severus could not approach.

He was not entirely certain how the link between Harry and the Dark Lord's mind worked, if Harry had ever projected his own visions to the dark wizard in reverse, but any surge of emotion – like relief, or anger, or glee – upon seeing him, may trigger it, which would not only implicate his loyalties but also risked giving away Harry's location as well, and the Dark Lord would be upon them within seconds.

Severus noted with exasperation that the boy had not drawn his wand, which meant that he had not cast a spell since escaping camp.

The entirety of Severus' rescue plan relied upon him doing so.

No doubt, Lily was beside herself and had half of Wizarding Britain aware of her son's disappearance by now.

Severus had seen to it, some weeks ago, that rumours arising to pinpoint the Dark Lord's placement in Romania – rather than the, previously thought, location of Albania – would reach Dumbledore and Regulus, and, so, once a search within their own home country fell short, eyes would certainly turn in that direction; for who else would dare kidnap Harry Potter.

The Ministry would be alerted and waiting, watching for any and all signs of his Trace being activated, something the Dark Lord had anticipated and had ordered their dwellings be shielded from, accordingly.

But the entire forest could not have been blanketed out and, so, the Aurors or, at least, the not-quite-reassembled-Order would be waiting for it and, when it did, they would be here to whisk him away and bloodshed would, undoubtedly, ensue.

Bartemius Crouch would want this uprising snuffed out immediately, at any sign of Dark magic.

All of that, however, relied entirely upon the Trace being activated in the first place and Potter wasn't using magic to get away. He was just running, while Severus scampered along in the shadows at distance.

Harry fell to the ground, suddenly.

Severus slowed but continued his approach under the cover of the dark.

By the time Severus was close enough to see him clearly, Harry had gotten back to his feet, and he took the chance to glance over him; the blood and dirt and sweat that clung to the boy's face was haunting as it glimmered in the moonlight, this child who had been through far too much and, still would, if anyone other than him were to spot him now.

Severus pushed aside the desperate urge to go to him - another damn weakness - and apparate him away from the place himself, that instant; there was still time, a chance for this to work.

If Harry would not raise his wand and activate the Trace the solution was simple, Severus would just have to do it.

And it wouldn't be a meagre 'lumos' or transfiguration spell, to create cover, though Harry could certainly do with both.

No.

It needed to be something bigger. Something that would, undoubtedly, get the Ministry's attention.

Severus gripped his wand, the spell enacted wordlessly, simply thought within his mind.

'Expecto Patronum.'

Harry flinched at the sudden brightness before him.

A glowing, silver doe approached him, bounded around him in a circle for a moment, before it launched upwards and vanished into the air.

He frowned, wondering at it, what on earth; it was a patronus.

But how.

Who?

Harry turned, looking around the woods, feeling both cautious and hopeful, and he found his voice for the first time, though his words came out a tentative whisper; "Snape?"

"Harry!"

He spun around at the voice, sudden and frightfully loud in the quiet, and he couldn't believe his eyes; it was his mum.

"Mum –"

She had him tight in her arms within a second, and Harry pressed his face into her shoulder, telling himself he ought not to cry, but he felt the wetness of his eyes anyway and just clung to her; the utter relief he felt rendering him helpless in her embrace.

"Oh, God, honey, look at you," his mum whispered, drawing back and her hand coming up to caress his cheek, as she looked at him closely.

"Merlin, Harry," his Uncle Remus said, from behind his mum, leaning in closer and putting a hand on his arm.

And it was only then that Harry took in all those that were suddenly there; seven others, none of whom Harry recognised, had appeared with his mum and Remus, and all had their wands out and were stalking and eyeing the surrounding area.

"Did you notice anyone following you, Harry?" one of the witches said, an Auror, Harry realised, young with bright pink hair though he didn't recognise her.

He shook his head; "No. But they will be."

His mum uttered a cleansing charm under her breath, washing the blood from his face, her wand drawn as she continued to look over him, a work-up, Harry realised, that she would do on her patients, searching for injuries, maladies, and Harry assured her he was okay.

"Was it him, Sweetheart?" his mum asked, squeezing his hand and looking at him, carefully.

He nodded; "Yeah. He…one of his Death Eaters, they locked me up. Mum, I think he'll be back by now. For real. That's the only reason they're not here following me. They were…they were resurrecting him."

"You saw this?"

Harry nodded; "Yeah. They…I think they needed me for it. They used my blood."

His mum and Remus shared a concerned look.

"That's bad, right?" Harry said, already knowing the answer.

"What happened next?" his mum asked.

"I dunno. I think it went wrong or something, they were all watching, and nothing was happening. But I didn't see anything else, that's when they took me away and put me in the cell."

His mum had noticed the slash of his hand and had lifted her wand, was whispering an incantation – a song – to seal the wound.

"How did you get away?" Remus asked.

"I don't…Snape."

His mum looked up, sharply, with a frown; "You saw Severus?"

Remus made a sudden movement at her side.

Harry frowned at the familiarity of the way his mum spoke of Snape but only nodded, disregarding it in favour of telling her the confusing truth; "Yeah. He…I think he helped me. I mean, I know he did; he told me how to get out. But…mum, he was with them. A Death Eater."

"Shh," his mum said, looking around the area, suddenly wary; "We'll talk about this at home."

Harry swallowed, looking back in the direction he had come with a frown, as he allowed himself to finally think about all that had happened and what he had seen.

Had there be others there, other that he knew and who knew him, that had stood by and watched; Regulus Black had been a Death Eater, perhaps he was still, and there was Malfoy's father, Harry knew about him, too. All followers.

Harry thought there would have been more of them, he had always heard how they were so powerful, an unbeatable force some years before, but he supposed power beat numbers.

Before Harry could say anything, a flash and a bellow of a spell erupted, lighting the darkness.

And then another.

"They're here!"

"Harry," his mum grabbed him, urging him to take cover, barely a second before the forest was suddenly brought to life with the flashes of spells and the cries of curses and counter curses and Harry couldn't help looking back as she hurried him away from it.

"Mum –" Harry drew out his wand.

"Come on, hold onto me," his mum said, grabbing him, and making to disapparate, Harry realised, but then they were suddenly face to face with a masked figure who threw a curse their way and his mum barely blocked it in time.

"Get down!" she told him, pushing him to the ground as she engaged the Death Eater.

Wow, his mum could actually duel.

Harry's eyes glanced around the area, his own wand held tight in his hand, at the battle they were suddenly in the middle of.

"Crucio!"

Screams of agony filled the night.

It wasn't an Auror on the ground, Harry realised, but a Death Eater, writhing in the dirt and then it stopped when a flash of light hit the perpetrator.

"Einlatus!" it was his mum's voice, as she flung a curse in her own opponents way, keeping herself placed in front of Harry.

"Crucio!" came the responding curse.

"Sectumsempra!"

More screams.

"Mudblood bitch!" his mum was blasted and hit the ground on her back, at Harry's feet, and he quickly reached down to help her.

A spell was fired their way and Harry blocked it, returning a jinx in response that was utterly amateur in comparison to the spells and incantations being enacted in the night; it was brutal.

Unforgivables were being thrown back and forth between both sides, indiscriminately, screams and wails and the thuds of those falling to the ground, as Death Eaters suddenly appeared on all sides, and, actually, there were more of them than Harry gave credit for. They were certainly outnumbered, anyway.

"Alert the Dark Lord; we've found him!" one of them cried out.

"Lily, get your son out of here," one of the Aurors said, a rounded man with a wooden leg, that Harry was sure couldn't possibly hold his own in this fight.

His mum grabbed Harry by the arm with a nod, but before she could do so, another Death Eater engaged her.

"Crucio!"

She fell to the ground, writhing and screaming, and Harry watched in horror for a second, at the sound she made and the agony on her face, struck utterly dumb by it before he quickly raised his wand, going to stop the attacker, but he didn't have to.

The Death Eater suddenly fell down at Harry's feet; stunned.

Hit from behind.

Harry frowned, looking out quickly at the forest, at where the spell had come from, but could see nothing, no one in that direction at all.

Before Harry could think any further on it, he was grasped by the arms by his mum – back on her feet – and she disapparated, removing the two of them from the forest.

Of all the things, the horrors, that Lily had experienced in this life, none of them compared to this day, the day in which she had discovered her son had been taken from her.

And what made it all the more terrifying was the fact that this was only the beginning.

This was Voldemort's rise.

"They used my blood, Mum," Harry told her again, when they were finally home, hours after leaving the forest and having to deal with the immediate inquiries from the Ministry and Dumbledore as to what had occured; "He…he can touch me now, right?"

Lily looked at him, trying to get a grip of herself and conceal her own despair at the realisation, for she could not alarm her son any further than he already was; "I believe so. But he won't get the chance of that, Harry. Not again, ever."

Harry looked sceptical, clearly not believing the assertion, both of them just knowing that Voldemort wouldn't stop until he did. She knew Harry knew Voldemort was hunting him, though she had heeded Severus' advice not to bring it up. He would do so, when the time came, what with Harry already confiding in him.

But then, maybe Harry wouldn't be so receptive, now that he had seen what Severus was – or pretended to be – and how he had been there.

"Harry, you said you saw your Potions Professor," Lily probed, carefully, as they sat on the couch, him eager to share what had happened, and she made sure not to slip the way she had done, earlier, when she had referred to him by his first name, Severus, and seemed far too interested in his presence there.

Harry met her eyes and nodded; "Yeah." He looked confused for a minute; "I don't understand, Mum. Do you think Dumbledore knows he's a Death Eater? I mean, he's a teacher. He shouldn't be around kids."

Lily bit her lip, before she drew in a breath; "Things aren't always what they seem, Harry. I'm sure the Headmaster knows Professor Snape well. And clearly he trusts him."

"He chopped someone's hand off."

Lily did her best not to react.

Harry went on, frowningly, as if to himself; "He's the one that did the thing, the potion or the ritual or whatever; he's the one that brought him back."

Harry looked down, confusion written entirely over his face; "But…he helped me. And I think…I don't know. I've spent a lot of time with him. What with the lessons and everything. He didn't seem like he was that bad."

"Harry –"

He looked at her, suddenly, looking curious; "You called him 'Severus'. You know him, don't you?"

Lily hesitated.

Then she nodded; "Yes. I do. We work together."

Harry just looked at her, blankly, like he knew that wasn't just it and that she was keeping something from him.

"And he served with me. In the Order," Lily said, realising there was no use in keeping that from him now; Severus would have to reveal it, if not her, and probably still would even after she explained but, at least this way, he'd hear it from both of them and may be more inclined to believe it was his side that they were on.

Looking at her son, the seeming hope that had lit up within his eyes at her statement, she realised that Harry wanted to believe it; that Severus was one of theirs.

She sighed and nodded; "Yes. He's Dumbledore's. A spy."

Harry seemed to weigh the information, saying nothing, then he drew in a breath and nodded; "Okay."

"Okay?"

Harry looked at her and shrugged; "Well. I dunno. It makes sense, right? I thought he might be one – not a spy, a Death Eater – back at school. Malachi's dad, he was one. And Snape, he calls him 'the Dark Lord', like Mr Black does. It was obvious."

Harry paused, thinkingly, before he met her eyes; "He couldn't…he couldn't have just fooled Dumbledore, right? He's really on our side?"

"I believe so."

"You believe so?" Harry repeated, with a frown; "That doesn't sound very promising."

Lily smiled; "I really believe so."

Harry's lips twitched for a second and then he smiled, looking down.

"What happened?"

"He…They needed my blood. Snape came to…get it. And he told me the spell to escape, whispered it to me when he was close enough. It wasn't much; I didn't even realise what he was doing at the time. It's lucky I even figured it out, what it was he wanted me to do. He always wants me to think, he never just tells me stuff."

Lily fought back another smile, warming at the familiar way in which he spoke about him.

"Well, maybe he just sees that you can."

"Or he wants to laugh at me when I don't."

"I doubt that's what he would have done."

"Well. Not this time, maybe. Because I would have been dead."

"I'm sure he would have found another way."

Harry looked at her, carefully; "What makes you so sure?"

Lily held his look and then she just smiled, looking away.

She couldn't tell him any more than she already had.

"You should get some sleep, Sweetheart."

Harry made no protest. Within a few more minutes he had pressed a kiss to her cheek and gone to his room, in the safety of their own home, and Lily should relax and be glad of it and go to sleep herself, but she simply couldn't, not now.

Still utterly wired by all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

James' funeral.

Harry's kidnapping.

Waiting, helplessly, at the Ministry for any sign of her son's whereabouts.

Only now, that Harry and Grace were safe and tucked up in bed, did Lily allow herself the time to find and take comfort in the one and only good thing that had happened that day. Or, rather, what she had learned.

That Severus was alive.

That he was with them.

It was crazy that the thought offered comfort at all, but it did.

He was safe – as safe as he could be, considering the circumstances – and just as astute as ever, protecting and saving her son.

Perhaps, even, her, too, as she was entirely certain that the Death Eater whom had fallen in the middle of her torture could be attributed to Severus, concealed somewhere within the trees.

He had been watching over them from the shadows.

For now, Lily could only hope for one thing; that Severus' standing – and, as such, his life – would remain intact following the events of that night.

For, even if Severus' complicity in it all were not suspected, his master would still not be pleased.