Chapter 6: Hunted
Potter.
That name had been somewhere at either the forefront or back of Severus's conscious mind since the dreams had begun, but this morning he was thinking of a different Potter. At young Harry's age, the resemblance to his father was there, unfortunately, but the disturbing circumstances had often been enough that Severus had been able to forget that this was Potter's wretched progeny while he was spending so much time trying to determine if he was breaking his vow of protection on the boy.
Apparently, sleepless nights were beginning to take their toll.
This morning, Severus was wandering the grounds so early that the sun was barely peeking above the clouds. He skirted the forbidden forest with no destination in mind.
Avoiding the headmaster was not possible during the days leading up to the winter holidays when staff meetings and other activity picked up in frequency. Instead, Severus had retreated into his professor persona. The last place he wanted to be was surrounded by adolescents, especially under the thumb of a powerful wizard like Dumbeldore, but he owed the man his allegiance. And his loyalty.
He owed him his life.
As much as he'd loathed feigning obedience to Voldemort, and hiding his revulsion of his fellow Death Eaters, that task had been monumentally important. He could not let his concentration drop, for not only would he risk his life, but that of his intelligence. It was necessary for the Order and winning the war. They had other spies and sources, but he was the most highly placed. The Dark Lord needed his potions.
In return for protection for the Potters, Severus had sold his soul for the second time—to Dumbledore. His penance for risking their lives in the first place was spending the rest of his days teaching potions to dunderheads. If things had worked out, and Lily had lived, he would have gladly paid it and never looked back. They were both dead.
Voldemort's betrayal did not surprise him. He did not really expect the vile man to spare her at his request, despite Severus's mechations. It was Black that surprised him. Severus had never expected Sirius Black, inseparable with James Potter from the first train ride, to turn traitor. True, Severus had always found it hard to identify whether his hatred was worse for Potter or Black before the day Black had turned, but that didn't make the news easier to stomach.
Black was still alive. In Azkaban.
His unthinking wanderings had taken Severus to within a few yards of the whomping willow. It might have been what had subconsciously started him on the train of thought of Potter and Black. He was an adult now, but not enough time had passed, apparently, that the thought did not bring bile to his empty stomach. Black's prank. Potter's intervention. Black had thought it was funny to put him in the path of a transformed werewolf; Potter had intervened in just enough time to save his life.
Severus had not intervened in enough time to save Potter's life from Black when the time came.
Why were the same actors always involved in this little play?
Potter, Black, Death Eaters, Voldemort.
Dumbledore.
Enough.
Severus turned away from the willow and headed toward the castle. He'd had it with puppet masters.
It was time to rescue Harry Potter.