They were hiding in a rotten hovel this time. The roof leaked at night no matter how many times Harry cast the Impervious charm. This close to the cliffs meant constant wind as well - it shook the cottage every night.

Harry narrowed his eyes and snarled. Snape had been gone for three days now. The slimy bastard had left in a flurry of billowing cloak, leaving him cooped up in this piece of trash cabin. By this point he had memorized every inch of this accursed place. Stacks of books on dark magic Snape had collected through the years - Harry had read all of them more than twice. Firewood was stacked to the ceiling against two walls. Two simple cots, a fireplace that was always crackling, a single tilted window with cracked glass.

And, of course, the door.

He had been pacing for hours, and he always came to a stop in front of the door. Part of him wanted to charge out there. It's not like the location of the palace was a secret after all. If there was one thing Tom made sure of it was that everyone knew his power and influence.

Harry took a deep breath. Any minute now, Snape'd be back and finally make himself useful. If he didn't Harry had a half a mind to curse him into oblivion.

With a shake to clear his head, he walked to the stack of books. He ran his hand along the spine of one he had been meaning to refresh on and pulled it aside. Ever since the battle, he had studied dark magic with a focus that would have placed him at the top of his class - even above Hermione. It took all his effort to concentrate on the worn yellow pages. He must've read the passage on Proffit's Necromantic Technique three times straight, and he found himself remembering none of it.

There was a snap, a thud, and the door flung open.

Snape stumbled forward, blood splattering on the floor with every motion. Harry didn't move to help him. "Blood magic again? Lupin told me to avoid signature moves you know." He snorted. "Never thought I'd give you that advice."

"Shut up." Snape growled, dragging himself to a chest which opened into a layered contraption with a wave of his hand. Potions of all colors, shimmering and murky, clattered against one another as they flew from the chest. He grabbed a few and bit the corks off, downing them in parched gulps.

"Well?" Harry asked. He felt jittery so he shook his hands, hoping to rid himself of the nerves. "Did you get it?"

"Imbecile." Snape spat. He reached into his cloak. "I told you I would get it or die. Clearly I'm still alive."

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he snatched it from Snape, who watched him closely.

"I'm not going to break it." Harry snapped as he examined the amulet. It was primitively constructed. The chain was no chain at all, but frayed strands of dry hair woven together in a simple braid. The concave talisman was rough with foreign symbols so worn they couldn't be read. At first glance, if he hadn't been holding it and its color hadn't been that of rusting yellow, Harry could've mistaken it for a piece of hard plastic.

He ran his hand along the totem's jagged edges. Yes, he could easily imagine where this plate of bone had been taken from someone's skull.

Suddenly sickened, he thrust it back towards Snape. "Are you sure this will work?"

"Of course I'm not sure. You destroyed all the Horcruxes - that was supposed to be sure." Snape replied smoothly. "At this point, we're improvising."

"This has to work." Harry said and sat back on his cot. A sense of peace washed over him and he stared at the cracking fire. "There's no way it won't."

"Get up." Snape's acidic tone was the first thing that greeted Harry on the morning of October 31st. Harry thought waiting until this day was stupid, but he knew Snape found it symbolic.

Harry didn't complain at the early awakening. He had been ready to end this for years- the reckoning was long past due. They donned their armors - sleek black metal and shimmering poison green cloaks, the protection of dark sorcerers in Merlin's time. The only difference was the sword of Gryffindor at Harry's hip. When it came to amulet, they had both paused. In the end, Harry took it from Snape's unsure hands and placed it around his own neck. As it settled against his heart, Harry had expected something- thunder, screams, whispers- but there was nothing. It was slightly cold.

"Right." Harry said. His voice was unsteady. "Let's go."

They stepped out of the cabin that had served as their refuge. The second they had left the threshold, Snape set it ablaze with a flick of his wand. Harry watched the flames with a twinge of sadness in his chest, telling himself it was better this way. Shell Cottage had been defiled enough, fire was the only thing left that could clean away what had been done.

They cast Bubblehead Charms and Snape grasped his arm. With a crack, they disappeared. They apparated to a dark, grimy tunnel, knee deep in a river of waste and urine. The charms on their armor repelled it all and kept them perfectly dry - they walked forward in silence, their destination clear in mind.

It was only when the tunnel began to narrow and they had to crawl forward on their stomachs that Snape broke the silence.

"Do you remember the incantation?"

Snape spoke directly to his mind. It was a trick he'd tried and failed to teach Harry a number of times. "Yes- yeah. I remember."

He didn't reply but Harry knew he had heard. A part of him wanted to laugh - if his eleven year old self could see him now, so attuned with Snape's mood he knew the man's personality in and out, he would have flung himself from the Astronomy tower.

They crawled for at least an hour before reaching their destination. It was a crossroads of sorts - if you could count the criss-crossing pipes of human sewage below London to be a crossroads. Snape and Harry stood in the crossing - the ceilings stretched high here, and the pipes leading here were numerous.

"It's not far." Harry remarked. "It's funny - he got rid of everything but the sewers."

Snape ignored him, but Harry was used to that by now. Instead, the man drew his wand and began to chant and draw in the air. Harry left him to it, instead moving forward to the pipe they'd be continuing down.

"I can't believe he kept the sewers." Harry chuckled humorlessly, his hollow laughter echoing down the pipes.

Snape didn't miss a word in his spells as Harry rambled. A hiss and a flash of purple light were the only evidence they did anything at all once he stopped chanting.

"It work?"

"Yes." Snape closed his eyes slowly and replied, looking drained.

Harry gave him a moment. "We should keep going."

"Let's."

This pipe was bigger. Their boots sloshing around the thick grey water echoed. They were close now, so close. The decaying metal around them groaned.

It was a hellish approach to the castle of hell, but Harry felt a rising sense of relief. One way or another, this would be over soon. One way or another, they would be free.

He suddenly stopped. Snape sensed his halt and turned, eyebrow raised behind his metallic black mask. The pipes clanged.

"Why keep the sewers?" Harry asked, brow furrowed. "Why keep… the pipes..?"

They realized the same moment the metal's creaking intensified. A low, deep scraping accompanied it.

...Kill…

Harry's eyes widened. He shoved images of serpents and chambers through his mind to Snape's. It was the best he could do. They couldn't risk speaking.

"Does it know we're here?"

Snape turned to look back at him calmly. Harry shrugged emphatically. How was he supposed to know?

From the sounds of it, the basilisk - Harry assumed that's what it was - was not in their pipe. He gestured madly for Snape to keep moving.

The two rushed through the pipes, Snape casting wordless spells to hide their tracks. The grating metal sound grew louder and softer in waves. Harry swore inwardly - no matter what spells Snape cast, it would still smell them.

They rounded the final corner in soundless flurry. Snape grabbed Harry's arm and thrust him toward the rusted ladder embedded into the pipe leading onward and upward. He didn't need an invitation and climbed as fast as he could.

With a barked "Bombardo!" the manhole cover went flying outward. Abandoning all pretense of subtlety, Harry imbued his legs with magic and leapt from the pipe and onto the cracked pavement. This was an abandoned section of London, and it was unlikely any patrols would be by.

Snape followed him shortly, not bothering to repair the blasted sewer. He immediately began placing protective wards at a rapid pace, his wand a blur in the air.

Harry wasn't watching. He was busy scanning the crumbling skyline. As his gaze fell on the heart of London his breath caught.

The castle was there, larger than any skyscraper had been. It was wrought from an obsidian-like stone, glassy and pure black. The whole castle was covered in statues of diving and writhing snakes. Harry noticed with disgust several were carved as if they were mating.

"Dominion." Harry spat. "How many people are locked up there?"

"Enslaved, not prisoners." Snape corrected. "The Dark Lord has no use for prisoners."

Harry gripped his wand, a burst of fire flying from it. A memory of being trapped by four inky black walls threatened to resurface. "How long will the preparations take?" Harry knew, of course. They had discussed it hundreds of times.

"If we're lucky, we will be finished by sundown. Otherwise we will have to wait until sunrise." Snape answered him.

Harry nodded. He looked around and transfigured a pile of rubble into a passable armchair, sitting down to watch Snape work. Unfortunately, blood magic rituals weren't exactly his strong suit, and the one that Snape needed to prepare was extremely finicky.

It was impressive, Harry thought as he watched his former potions professor. Snape was truly expert as he sliced open his flesh and performed complicated incantations, every once in a while procuring a potion and either drinking it or smashing it on the pool of deep red blood growing under his feet.

Snape's work continued for hours, as expected. Harry watched with bated breath as the sun fell, praying that they could finish now and be done with it now. If he didn't finish soon, they'd have no choice but to wait for sunrise for the next phase of the ritual.

The night grew dark and Harry's hopes fell. They would have to survive undetected for another eight hours.

It was approaching midnight when Snape ceased chanting. He looked exhausted, though Harry supposed the two years or so they spent on the run had contributed to that. He certainly painted a different picture than he had when Harry had first seen him in the Great Hall, not even yet sorted. His greasy black hair had grown coarse and streaked with white. There were deep unflattering lines in his face that hadn't been there before. And of course, he was a pallid color, on account of all the blood loss.

"It's done." Snape said with great weight in his voice.

"You ought to drink those Blood Replenishing potions." Harry commented, trying to keep himself from vomiting out of nerves.

Snape laughed. "What's the point, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. His free hand found the bone plate amulet around his neck and the other gripped his wand tightly.

"How much longer?" He asked Snape, although he could find out easily.

"Not long."

The two of them sat in silence, occasionally glancing at the pool of dark red, or towards the palace silhouetted against the waning half moon. It was only when Harry heard the familiar, raspy whispers that Snape didn't seem to notice that he leapt from his transfigured armchair and swore violently.

...Kill….

...Intruders...

…Kill…

"What?" Snape was on his feet shortly, wand drawn. His eyes scanned the area around them, and he muttered a few defensive spells.

"Basilisk." Harry whispered.