HARRY POTTER
AND THE DEATH EATER MENACE

Harry Potter and all associate characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

CHAPTER 26: Dreamscapes, Memories, and Nightmares (pt 2)

18 December 1993
The Three Broomsticks
2:30 p.m.

After viewing the memory of the Battle of Diagon Alley, Harry Potter found the subsequent memories to be far less wrenching. Indeed, they were almost anticlimactic outside of the morbid aspect of watching several good people be murdered. When Harry asked about it, Moody admitted that he wanted to get the most violent and disturbing memory out of the way first. The Burke memory was the one with the most collateral damage and more importantly the only one with such atrocities as a rain of cobras or exploding eyeballs. The next few memories mainly featured Voldemort rather causally striking people down with a second or third Killing Curse after the victims had been lucky enough to dodge the first one or two. Harry noted that Moody's statistics seemed to hold true – feinting right and then dodging left worked slightly more often than other tactics, if only for a few seconds. Compared to Burke, none of the duelists in those other memories came close to even inconveniencing Voldemort, though several, by their sacrifices, allowed others to escape the Dark Lord's wrath.

At around 2:30, Moody called for a break. The last memory he'd planned to show that day would be the duel between Voldemort and James Potter which (luckily for Harry's father) quickly turned into a duel between Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore, the only person to have decisively beaten Voldemort one-on-one. But extended Pensieve review was mentally draining, and Moody wanted Harry to be clear-headed for this last duel, so he told Harry to nip down invisibly to the loo on the first floor and freshen up while he picked up a couple of sandwiches from Madam Rosmerta.

Once downstairs, Harry was careful to avoid bumping into the few customers around, but he was surprised to see Minister Fudge sharing a table with Profs. McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid, and they soon invited Rosmerta to join them. Curious, Harry crept closer to listen in on the conversation which was initially about how the Dementors were negatively affecting the local economy before veering off into lurid discussions about the Azkaban escape and the many supposed sins of "the traitor Sirius Black," who Fudge seemed to think was by far the most dangerous of the escapees.

"Obviously, Black was tired of his double-agent role," the Minister said. "He was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned to become the Potters' Secret Keeper just to help bring about their deaths. But as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Jim Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it." [AN 2]

Harry rolled his invisible eyes, annoyed at the Minister's credulity. Of course, in Fudge's defense, Sirius Black had obligingly given a very thorough confession at his trial. The boy frowned. He'd read over the trial transcript several times, and they certainly seemed convincing to him. But there was still something there. Something he was missing. Harry shook his head. It would come to him, he was sure of it. Across the room, Moody had just collected his late lunch and was heading back up the stairs to his room.

"But what do you think Black and the other escaped Death Eaters have broken out to do?" said Madam Rosmerta. "Good gracious, Minister, they aren't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, are they?"

"I dare say that is the eventual plan," said Fudge evasively. "But we hope to catch Black and the others long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing … but give him back his most devoted servants, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again …." [AN 2]

Having heard enough, Harry made his way to the loo, his thoughts turning rapidly. While he appreciated the memories and insights that Alastor Moody was providing, the boy suddenly wanted to return to his room and study the Black trial transcript once more in hopes that the answers would reveal themselves. When those revelations finally came later that evening, even Harry would be surprised by their source.

The Longbottom Dungeons
3:30 p.m.

"How can we get him out of there?" Lucius Malfoy asked with a deceptive calm that only barely masked his mounting alarm.

"We can't do anything of the sort, Lucius," Regulus said with resignation, though he was quite alarmed himself. "Only Severus can safely end the Legilimency intrusion. If we do anything to disturb him at this point, who knows how disastrous the consequences might be."

By this point, Severus Snape had spent hours staring placidly into the eyes of the paralyzed Bellatrix Lestrange. The length of time spent on this venture was not the source of their concern, for the interrogations of Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange had each lasted about as long. However, neither of those two interrogations had resulted in physical damage to the man.

Regulus had been the first to notice the small red scratch that spontaneously appeared on Snape's left hand. A few moments later, another scratch appeared on his right cheek – and a second later, his head jerked about as if he'd been struck repeatedly before shifting back to meet Bellatrix's helpless gaze as if nothing had happened. But while there was no visible source of the blows to the Legilimens' head, their aftereffects were obvious. Within a few seconds, Snape had a black eye, and his nose had seemingly broken itself with an audible crack.

Concerned that Snape's real-world injuries might also compromise his safety within Bellatrix's mind, Reg cautiously applied some basic healing Charms that he thought (hoped!) would not cause a distraction to the man's psychic avatar.

"Did you know that Legilimency could do this?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"No," Lucius answered curtly. "And I fear, neither did Severus."

Inside the mind of Bellatrix Lestrange

Severus snarled angrily as another thorn clipped his ear, and in response, he suffered another sudden and painful flashback. It was Autumn Term of his Second Year, and a group of Fourth Year Slytherins had mastered the Stinging Hex and thought it might be amusing to practice it on the greasy impoverished Half-blood who wore rags under his robes and was friends with a particularly uppity Mudblood. Of course, it had only taken him two hours over a potion cauldron followed by discreet access to their dorm room to disabuse them of the idea that they should ever use Severus Snape for such sport again. Indeed, he'd heard that one of them still had problems with persistent bed-wetting to this very day.

Unfortunately, the fact that he'd swiftly avenged himself for that unpleasant afternoon of Slytherin hazing did not eliminate the painful memories of it, memories the psychic thorns could reawaken with just a scratch. He suddenly felt oddly grateful that those wretched Marauders, while cruel in their humor, generally preferred embarrassing jinxes over curses that could draw blood or break bone. At the time, he'd considered public embarrassment at the hands of Potter and Black to be worse than all but the bloodiest of curses, but in his current environment, the memory of being debagged in the Hogwarts courtyard in front of dozens of jeering classmates was far less dangerous than his recollections of being challenged by aspiring Death Eaters from his own house. And that wasn't even the worst problem – the memory attacks seemed to progress through Snape's life in chronological order, and at the rate of progression, it would not be long before he was experiencing flashbacks to Death Eater combat training and, worse, exposure to the Dark Lord's Cruciatus Curse. And if Snape was forced to sense-memory a Crucio or two (or ten!) while trapped inside Bellatrix's mind, it could be disastrous if not fatal. ("Always assuming a flashback to That Night in the Shrieking Shack doesn't do me in first," he thought ruefully.) But given how narrow the path through the maze was relative to his size, further injuries seemed inevitable.

Snape furrowed his brow in thought. Presently, he had no power to affect the psychic integrity of the maze and very little power to protect himself against the maze. But he could make changes to his own psychic avatar so long as they could fit within the established rules of this mental landscape which, at the moment, was meant to emulate a naturalistic environment. Like most Hogwarts students, Severus had been duly impressed on his first day of Transfiguration when Minerva McGonagall demonstrated her Animagus form, so much so that he'd briefly investigated the process for acquiring such a form himself. He'd abandoned the inquiry after learning about the Conscription List, but he had not forgotten the results of that brief foray and the insights about his own nature that he'd gained.

There was a reason, after all, why he rarely took offense when the Marauders and his other school rivals sought to insult him by referring to him as "The Dungeon Bat."

Snape crouched and jumped forward, focusing his powerful mind on his own personal self-image as he did. Instantly, his robes flowed like black oil in the air before shrinking and thickening into small yet powerful wings, and with a soft shudder of magic, the form of Severus Snape fell away to be replaced by that of a black bat flying effortlessly through the maze and then up over its walls into the night-sky of Bellatrix Lestrange's mindscape.

As Snape ascended, he marveled briefly over the sensation of flying even if it was only imaginary. He'd always detested broom travel, but this was something different and far better. He also took a moment to thank his lucky stars that he'd come up with this stratagem – from the air, the hedge maze seemed to stretch for miles. Then, Snape was abruptly reminded once again that the hedge maze wasn't a maze at all when the green trees below him began to turn grey and merge together into a single thick canopy. Seconds later, the grey branches rather unexpectedly sprouted a surprisingly colorful foliage of orange, pink, lime green, and yellow. The brilliant color scheme confused Snape at first until the 'foliage' suddenly took to the air as if to swarm in his direction.

Mentally, Snape hissed in anger mixed with fear. What had appeared to be colorful foliage was actually a carefully fabricated memory of a flock of magical birds taking wing. Particularly, a rare species of magical bird indigenous to sub-Saharan Africa that bore the obnoxiously twee name of Fwooper. Fwoopers were well-known in the magical world for their brilliant and lovely multicolored plumage.

And also for the fact that extended exposure to their song caused permanent insanity.

In the dungeon cell, Regulus was wiping Snape's forehead with a damp cloth when the other man suddenly spoke for the first time since the interrogation began.

"Fwooooopers!" he whispered harshly before resuming his silent focus on Bellatrix.

Regulus leaned back in surprise, opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked up at Lucius in confusion. Lucius simply shrugged.

"Well, I don't think either of us was expecting him to say that," he quipped.

Suddenly, there was a soft pop as Hoskins, the Longbottom's house elf appeared bearing a silver tray with more damp towels.

"Your fresh towels, sir. Also, Hoskins regrets to inform youses gentle-wizards, but there has been an unsuspected arrival."

Reg and Lucius looked at one another sharply. "Who?" Lucius asked.

"Tis Mr. Regulus Black's brother, sir. The one what was staying upstairs during the summer and leaving dog hairs all over the place." Hoskins then coughed in embarrassment. "Not that Hoskins minded cleaning up after the visiting dog-man, of course. No, not at all."

Regulus closed his eyes. "I'll kill him. I'll cut off all that long hair he's so proud of and strangle him with it."

"Let's set your unrequited fantasies aside for now," drawled Lucius. "Hoskins, would you be so good as to … distract Sirius Black so that he does not come down here?"

"But of course, sirs. Hoskins will be subtle and polite but also firm and resolute." The house elf bowed respectfully and then popped away.

Regulus shook his head in annoyance and went back to wiping the forehead of Severus Snape, who had just begun twitching his left eye somewhat frantically. "Come on, Severus. Get out of there!"

Moments later in the Longbottom Parlor

By this point, Sirius Black had spent more than half an hour stuck in the Longbottom Parlor. Though "parlor" was perhaps a poor term for the chamber which was in no sense a feminine room. Indeed, the parlor was home to a surprising number of stuffed animal heads hanging on the walls. As Sirius surveyed the room, he was suddenly reminded that Augusta Longbottom had once held a reputation for game hunting (both magical and muggle). There had been a story from his school days that she'd even fashioned a hat out of a stuffed vulture, but he was sure that was all nonsense. Well, pretty sure.

He'd just checked the door for the fifth time to make sure it was still locked (and resistant to Alohomoras) when Hoskins popped back into the room, causing Sirius to utter a startled "Eek!" Next to the diminutive creature stood a rolling cart with a large covered tray on it.

"Hoskins does beg your esteemed pardon, Good Lord Black, sir. But Lord Black's younger brother wishes Hoskins to convey that he will be along to see you momentarily except that he is in what he describes as a delicate juncture at this time. In the meantime, Hoskins hopes that Lord Black will indulge in a brief repast while he waits."

With a flourish, Hoskins pulled the lid off the tray to reveal a full English tea service with a large plate of watercress sandwiches and an even larger plate of sugar cookies.

"Well … um, thanks, er, Hoskins," Sirius answered somewhat lamely. "But if it's all the same, I'd like to go join my brother. I promise I won't do anything to disrupt Reg's … delicate juncture."

Hoskins blinked twice with his big eyes which immediately started to water even as his smile faded and his lips began to quiver.

"Hoskins's afternoon repast is not pleasing to the Great and Noble Lord Black? Hoskins is … a bad elf?!" Then, Hoskins began to weep openly and then wail rather loudly. "Hoskins IS a bad elf! Hoskins shall go now and bang his fingers in the oven door until his knuckles crack. Bad Hoskins! Bad Hoskins!"

Alarmed, Sirius rushed forward to console the heartbroken elf. "No, Hoskins, no! Your … repast looks delicious! Here, I think I will have some tea and a bite to eat while I wait." He crammed a whole sandwich into his mouth and then smiled at the elf.

"Mmm! Tasty!" he tried to say through a full mouth as crumbs blew everywhere.

"Oh, Hoskins is so pleased! So very, very, very pleased indeed! Lord Black's kindness has given Hoskins reason to CARRY ON LIVING! Hoskins will step out now and allow the Great and Wonderful Lord Black to enjoy his meal! If Lord Black needs Hoskins for anything else, please to be tugging on the cord next to the fireplace!"

With that, the house elf popped out, leaving a bemused Sirius behind to sit down to a plate of sandwiches and enjoy some tea. Anything to keep that poor deluded creature from offing itself like one of the old Black elves would have done in his youth.

Outside the room, Hoskins materialized and positioned himself to monitor the parlor and its occupant.

"Hoskins must make a note to thank Dobby when Hoskins next sees him," Hoskins thought to himself. "Apparently, there can be a time for histrionic behavior after all."

Meanwhile in someone else's memories …

The Battle of Tutshill Green took place on 20 October 1979 when Death Eaters attacked a Quidditch match between the Tutshill Tornados and Puddlemere United. Their apparent intentions were, in likely order of importance, (a) to assassinate Millicent Bagnold, who had recently been elected Minister of Magic on an aggressive anti-Voldemort campaign; (b) to assassinate Puddlemere United's star Seeker, Will Stockton, who was also the most prominent Muggleborn Quidditch player in the country; and (c) to instill general panic. Thankfully, the attack was only successful in the last goal. While the Death Eaters were prepared with a sneak attack that could take out Minister Bagnold's bodyguards, they reckoned without the presence of James Potter and Sirius Black, both of whom were in attendance as spectators on a rare day off. When the Death Eaters apparated right onto the pitch (in a shocking breach of the stadium's Anti-Apparition wards), Potter and Black both jumped right out of the stands and into the thick of things.

The fact that the two off-duty Auror-trainees had somehow managed to smuggle illegal second wands into the Tutshill Stadium despite it being a "Wand Free Zone" for the duration of the championship match would later be quietly swept under the rug.

Sirius focused his attention on Voldemort's personal assassin, a female Death Eater known as Miss Demeanor and recognizable by her featureless ivory mask (which was somehow more frightening for its plainness than the garish faces carved on the other Death Eater's masks). Meanwhile, James, in an incredible display of Transfiguration, somehow managed to selectively turn the ground under the Death Eaters into man-sized tar pits without affecting the rest of the pitch. Instantly, most of the Death Eaters found themselves up to their shoulders in tar and unable to move. The sight would have been comical had Miss Demeanor not demonstrated her own puissance by blasting herself into the air with an overpowered Ventus in the split second before the ground beneath her could be transfigured, and then cartwheeling gracefully in the air to land on solid ground before renewing her attack, now on both Sirius and James.

Her speed was incredible, and as Harry watched, he could tell that Miss Demeanor – who Moody helpfully identified as Azkaban escapee Bellatrix Lestrange – had both professional dueling experience and at least some degree of Auror training, but not even that could explain her incredible speed, her precision, and (ironically, Harry thought), her demeanor. From what he'd been told by Reg and Lucius about the woman locked up in the Longbottom dungeon, she was completely insane and prone to giggling rants, high-pitched shrieking, and the recitation of morbid nursery rhymes and children's songs. This incarnation of Bellatrix, however, said nothing at all except the occasional incantation, with even most of her spells cast wordlessly.

And as Harry studied the woman more closely, he was further surprised by the total absence of any emotional information that he could pick up from her through his Legilimency. Granted, she was wearing a mask, but so were the other Death Eaters, and Harry had no problem detecting their emotional states. In particular, the woman was certainly aware that she was fighting her cousin, Sirius Black, (as well as James Potter, a more distant cousin), but she gave absolutely no hint of familiarity with either man. To Miss Demeanor, they were simply obstacles between her and her mission.

The battle between the three was truly impressive, but even the deadly Miss Demeanor was no match for Potter and Black together, especially with more Aurors on the way. With a low growl (the only hint of emotion she'd shown), Miss Demeanor looked up above her opponents to the stands where Minister Bagnold was being quickly ushered to safety by her security detail. Her wand flashed as she cried out two words: BOMBARDA MAXIMA!

Desperately, James leaped as far as he could towards the path of the spell, and then he stabbed his wand into the ground. The whole pitch shook violently as a massive stone Keeper's mitt easily thirty-feet-tall thrust itself up out of the earth to catch Bellatrix's spell! The mitt exploded from the force of the Bombarda, but it absorbed the entire blast in the process and no one else was harmed. Miss Demeanor was so shocked that, for a brief second, she forgot her surroundings, and that was enough for Sirius to strike her with a Cutting Curse. She screamed as she went down, blood spurting from her side.

"Enough."

The word was not spoken above a conversational tone, but everyone in the stadium heard it somehow. And everyone's attention was instantly drawn to the robe-clad figure who had not been there a second earlier. There were perhaps three quick seconds of total silence that fell over the stadium as the hundreds of attendees realized who had just arrived. It was the one man they feared above all others, so much so that not one of them dared to speak his name aloud. Then, the Dark Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at the sky – "MORSMORDRE" – and the Dark Mark appeared over the Tutshill stadium. And the screaming started anew.

On the far side of the pitch, one of the Aurors tried to target Voldemort with the Killing Curse but only got out the first word before being struck down by the Dark Lord's much quicker application of it. The other Aurors focused on him, but Voldemort just sneered.

"Kindly wait your turn," he drawled while performing a complicated wand movement. Instantly, Sirius Black and the Aurors around him all dropped to their knees, suddenly overcome with crippling nausea and vertigo. Sirius and a few others got some spells off, but they all went wide. A few couldn't even try as they were too busy vomiting all over the pitch.

Still on one knee, James took advantage of that instant of distraction to transfigure the pitch once more. Only instead of tar, the ground under Voldemort turned into a pit of the strongest acid he knew how to make. But to his shock, Voldemort didn't fall into the pit. He simply floated above it and then glided to safety while addressing James.

"This marks the second time you have defied me, James Potter. There will not be a third. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Summoning up his strength, James stabbed the earth once more with his wand, and with a loud clang, a thick column of iron shot up out of the ground to take the spell for him, exploding immediately upon impact by the spell. Voldemort snarled and fired off a second Killing Curse, and James responded by taking a step back and summoning another iron barrier that exploded like the first one but also kept James alive for another moment. But it was obvious his strength was flagging, and Harry knew all too well how exhausting it would be to transfigure so many large and durable objects one after another. James summoned a third protective barrier and then a fourth.

But when he summoned a fifth (even though he staggered in the process), James finally got lucky. Before Voldemort could destroy his cover again, he was momentarily distracted when one of the Aurors who'd been nearly incapacitated by his Vertigo Curse nevertheless got off a lucky shot with a Lacero that sliced off a piece of Voldemort's robe. Incensed, Voldemort lashed out at the Auror and killed him instantly, but through his death, James Potter finally got his shot. He stepped forward and touched his wand to his last iron barrier. Instantly, hundreds of tiny cracks appeared in its surface, and the barrier collapsed into innumerable iron fragments suspended in mid-air. And then each of those fragments sharpened themselves into pointed projectiles that immediately shot towards Voldemort at tremendous speed.

Years earlier, while cleaning the living room at the Dursleys, Harry had happened to catch part of a military program that Vernon was watching. Specifically, one that discussed and demonstrated the effectiveness of a Muggle weapon called a Browning machine gun. The resemblance between the effects of that weapon and the transfiguration effect James used were striking. In a flash, Voldemort had thrown up a Protego Maxima, but even he struggled against the hail of transfigured bullets James had sent his way. That might well have been the end of Voldemort had he not done something James could never have expected – just as his shielding spell was about to collapse, Voldemort crouched … and then rocketed up into the air to hover a good 75 feet above the ground. James dropped to his knees in exhaustion and shock. Harry was shocked as well, and Moody paused the memory.

"I … was under the impression that self-propelled magical flight was impossible," Harry said. "How is he doing that?"

Moody shrugged. "No idea. Albus never figured it out either. Nor have the Unspeakables, assuming they'd tell us if they had." He resumed the memory.

"You see now one sample of my true power, James Potter," Voldemort called out. "Witness another before you die! FIENDFYRE!"

Immediately, there was utter (and perhaps literal) pandemonium, as the same portal to somewhere else appeared that Harry had seen the previous February when Lockhart/Regulus cast this spell in the DADA classroom. But instead of summoning a barrier to stop Aurors from pursuit, Voldemort had summoned the hellfire for offensive purposes. This time, the portal to somewhere else appeared at the tip of Voldemort's wand, and with a cruel laugh, he blew on the hellfire as if he were trying to start up a campfire. The flames expanded rapidly and then shaped themselves into the form of a gargantuan snake that coiled around him. Harry's mouth hung open. Stretched out, he was certain the snake would be close to a hundred yards long, much bigger than the Basilisk. And then, it reared up as if to strike and plunged its head towards James Potter.

Utterly exhausted by his transfiguration efforts, James had nothing left to give and simply closed his eyes and waited to die. And he would have had a great geyser of water not burst forth from the ground between him and the snake. The water shot up towards the hellfire snake and then wrapped around it as if to intertwine with it. Then, the water itself began to sparkle brightly, and in response, the snake began to thrash about in agony before breaking apart and fading away into nothingness. Moody briefly paused the memory to explain that the water sparkled because it had been transfigured into aqua veritas, an ultra-pure magical form of water that could only be created through Alchemy and which was one of the few substances known to be capable of dousing Fiendfyre. Its sudden appearance made the identity of James's savior obvious.

"Dumbledore!" hissed Voldemort angrily at the sight of the old wizard who now stood between him and Potter, the phoenix Fawkes perched on his shoulder. If the man had encountered any difficulties in bypassing the wards of the Dark Mark, he certainly didn't show them.

"Why yes, Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said brightly. "I'm so pleased you remember my name." He tilted his head inquisitively. "I don't suppose I can persuade you to simply surrender, can I? This will be our third encounter, and the last two times, you were forced to make an expeditious retreat. Aren't you afraid your luck will run out?"

The dark wizard sneered. "Not luck, old man. Skill. Or perhaps you would like to join me up here in the sky so that we could converse as equals?"

Dumbledore chortled. "Oh yes, I see that you've mastered the art of self-powered flight. Quite extraordinary. Though one wonders what sort of sacrifices you've had to make to acquire such a gift. Personally, I prefer more traditional and elegant forms of magic."

"Such as?" Voldemort drawled, though Harry thought he detected a hint of concern in his voice.

Dumbledore swiftly raised his left hand into the air while casually holding his wand in his right. To Harry's surprise, he was holding up what appeared to be a deck of Muggle playing cards! Dumbledore smiled broadly at his enemy.

"Pick a card, Voldemort. Any card!" Then, he brought his wand up and touched it to the deck which instantly exploded out of his hands as if he were playing a game of 52-Pickup. But the cards didn't fall to the ground. Instead, they flew up into the sky towards Voldemort at great speed, with each card spinning wildly as it went. Instantly, Voldemort had a Protego shield in place, but to his shock, the shield didn't simply repel the cards. Rather, upon impact, each individual card continued to spin in place, giving off sparks as if each was a tiny buzz-saw intent on cutting through the shield. According to Moody, Dumbledore had enchanted each card to be nearly indestructible and razor-sharp. Even worse for Voldemort, the cards could track him in the sky, and those cards that couldn't get at his shield directly spun off in their flight and tried to get around it, forcing him to convert the shield into a Protego orb. But despite his best efforts, his shields were beginning to visibly crack under the sheer number of spinning cards attacking him.

Furious, Voldemort flung his arms out, causing his shield to explode outward and briefly dispel the card-swarm. They quickly regrouped, however, and Voldemort was forced to take evasive actions. The Dark Lord tried wind, fire, and lightning-based curses, but while each attack would whittle away some of the cards, there were still too many in pursuit. Finally, in a fury, Voldemort gave a command to his Death Eaters through the Sonorous Charm, and both he and they apparated away. While there were casualties (many of whom were people trampled in the panic when Voldemort summoned Fiendfyre), there were only two fatalities on this day – the day Albus Dumbledore was declared the only wizard Voldemort feared.

The Forest of Bellatrix Lestrange's Mind

Desperately, the black bat that was Severus Snape twisted and twirled through the mass of Fwoopers as they sang their maddening song. It could not have been a coincidence, Snape thought, that this particular psychic trap suddenly sprang into existence when he flew over the maze as a bat. In his normal form, he could have used Occlumency to block out the wretched bird-song at least to some extent. But as a bat, echolocation was too fundamental to his self-image; he simply did not have the option of not listening to any part of his environment. Finally, Snape saw what he was looking for: an opening through the multicolored flock and, below it, a gap in the branches of the forest below. Snape gave one last powerful flap of his wings before tucking them in and dive-bombing straight down. The Fwoopers scattered for a moment before turning as one to follow him down.

Barely thirty feet above the forest floor, Snape extended his wings to slow his descent and then transformed himself back into his human form in time to drop to the ground in a roll. The mad chittering of the Fwoopers coming behind him showed that the danger was not over yet, but in his human form, it was a danger he was better able to address. From a crouched position on the ground, Snape pulled out his wand and aimed at the flock. With a single word from him, an enormous gout of flame burst forth from his wand tip to immolate the angry birds, as well as a decent-sized patch of the trees around them.

Once the hideous sounds of the accursed birds had faded to nothing, Snape slowly rose and surveyed his surroundings. He was out of the maze and past the birds, but he was now on a lonely barren path through a sinister twisted forest. The Legilimens was quite certain that Bellatrix's mental defenses were already actively adapting to his countermeasures, and he wondered what new adaptations and surprises were in store.

His curiosity was answered when a black arrow slammed into his collarbone hard enough to break it.

In the dungeon cell, Regulus and Lucius were relieved that Snape finally seemed to grow calmer … right up until his whole body jerked and a large spurt of blood shot out of his shoulder.

"MERLIN'S BALLS!" Regulus exclaimed as Lucius watched in horror. Reg was the first to recover, and he vanished Snape's coat and shirt before casting a diagnostic charm. There was a jagged hole in the man's shoulder that was still leaking blood at an alarming rate.

"Well?" Lucius asked impatiently. "How is this possible?"

Regulus looked grim. "I don't know how it's possible, Lucius, but according to my charm, Severus seems to have been shot by an arrow that missed his heart by less than six inches!"

Severus recovered from the injury just barely in time to block a second arrow with a Protego shield. By then, he was able to see where the arrows had come from, and his blood ran cold. Standing on a nearby tree branch, he could now see a female figure in night-black robes and wearing a Death Eater mask. Specifically, the distinctive featureless mask worn by Miss Demeanor when she was killing on the orders of their Lord. Snape strengthened his shield while also reaching up to yank the arrow out of his shoulder with a painful gasp. Miss Demeanor sent a few more arrows his way, but he was able to deflect them easily even as he healed the damage to his shoulder magically. Then, his eyes narrowed in suspicion – from what he knew of the woman, it was unlike Miss Demeanor to not press her advantage. Snape extended his Legilimency senses in all directions, and a soft high-pitched giggle from behind him gave just enough warning. He leaped to one side to dodge the arrow that would otherwise have struck the back of his head.

Rolling to safety, Snape stood with his back to a tree and set up another Protego. His worst fears were confirmed when a second figure stepped out of the brush: an unmasked Bellatrix Lestrange, attired in filthy Azkaban rags instead of the immaculate black Death Eater robes worn by her other self but still armed with an identical bow. Snape grimaced as he considered his suddenly dire situation. He was now facing two separate incarnations of the same person, Bellatrix Lestrange at two different points in her mental existence. Which also meant he was now facing two of the best duelists to have ever taken the Dark Mark.

Even as Snape tried to keep an eye on both women, Miss Demeanor obliged by leaping down from her tree branch. As she did, her bow seemed to turn to black smoke before reforming into the shape of a wand which she wasted no time in turning against him with a barrage of deadly spells. Meanwhile, Bellatrix's bow also transformed into a wand (the same wand, apparently, as that used by her other self). Comparing the two side-by-side would have been fascinating to Snape had the situation not become so dangerous. Miss Demeanor was every bit as focused and efficient as her reputation would have indicted. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was in a frenzy of motion and emotion, flinging curses wildly even as she cackled and gibbered.

Suddenly, Snape realized what must have happened. The Miss Demeanor persona was one constructed by Rookwood's foul perversion of Occlumency that was used to shape the original Bellatrix Black's personality into one focused only on killing in the name of the Dark Lord. But being a completely artificial persona, it was incapable of standing up to the trauma of Azkaban. And so, it receded and allowed the shattered remnants of Bellatrix's true personality to bear the brunt of the Dementors. The result? Dissociation – the consequence of two Occlumency-based personalities, neither of which could agree on which was real. The very same risk of running parallel identities that he had warned Harry Potter of not so long ago.

"It seems you have me at a disadvantage, ladies," he drawled with far more confidence than he felt. "Two against one hardly seems fair." Then, he turned to sneer at Bellatrix. "Even if one is only a shattered husk who can at best serve as a distraction for her better half."

"SHATTERED HUSK?! BETTER HALF?!" Bellatrix shrieked. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHO THE BETTER HALF IS!"

With that, the maddened woman let loose with a flurry of cutting spells. Instantly, Snape abandoned his Protego and jumped out of the way of Miss Demeanor's attacks and into Bellatrix's spells … which he neatly parried straight towards Miss Demeanor with his Averto shield. She was caught by surprise, and a few of those hexes managed to strike the assassin, causing her to cry out to Bellatrix in anger.

"Be careful, you fool! He's trying to bait us into turning against one another!"

"FOOL?! YOU CALL ME A FOOL?! I AM THE GREATEST, MOST BELOVED OF OUR MASTER'S DEATH EATERS!"

As Snape had hoped, the enraged and insane woman turned her fury on her own other self, and as Bellatrix and Miss Demeanor began to swap curses, Snape ran off into the woods in the hope that he could circle around them before they realized his stratagem.

"If both of Bellatrix's personae are here together," he thought to himself, "they must be guarding something. Which means I'm actually drawing close to Bellatrix's memory palace!"

He ran for several seconds through the underbrush as the sound of spellfire echoed through the forest. And then, the spellfire abruptly stopped.

"Wonderful," he thought bitterly. "Best case scenario: Bellatrix has destroyed or incapacitated Miss Demeanor, which means I'm one-on-one with the crazier but less dangerous personality. Worst case scenario: Bellatrix finally realized that I'm the true enemy, and they're both coming for me. And since they will have adapted to my strategy of pitting them against one another, I have little chance against both Bellatrixes (Bellatrices?) together."

As Snape made his way swiftly through the forest, he considered his options. The fact that two iterations of Bellatrix Lestrange could act independently against him was not a strategy he could employ himself. While he was certainly capable of generating secondary personalities, they would not have enough definition to act as useful allies in this psychic environment. Even if he could cause, say, Mr. X or Hubert Turnipseed to materialize, he would still have to direct their actions, thus halving his own combat readiness rather than doubling it.

Then, Snape froze as an idea popped into his head. It was a reckless, dangerous idea, but it was one he would at least need to consider if he hoped to survive this experience. Many, many years before, when he'd only begun to explore the deeper mysteries of Occlumency, he'd come across an obscure technique – Advocatus Diaboli. Not nearly as sinister as its name implied, the technique allowed him to manifest a true secondary personality, one that was neither based on his own nor created from scratch. Rather, the Advocatus was derived from Snape's understanding of the personality of another real-life person, someone who Snape knew well and whose opinions he valued, but whose views and values were different enough from his own that the Advocatus could give impartial advice and opinion on everything from reviewing homework assignments to major life decisions. He'd been quite proud to develop his own Advocatus by the age of fourteen … and disappointed when circumstances had forced him to lock it away forever in the deepest confines of his own memory palace.

It was not helpful at all to have an Advocatus Diaboli who had come to despise you.

Then, just up ahead, Severus saw an opening in the forest that led to what appeared to be a cave entrance. He rushed forward only to be blasted into the air by a Bombarda from somewhere behind. He landed in a heap and felt a sharp pain as his leg broke from the impact.

(While the pain was excruciating, Snape might well have found some amusement in the panicked and horrified reactions of Regulus and Lucius when his physical leg spontaneously snapped at an odd angle.)

Shaking off the impact, Snape quickly focused his Occlumency to neutralize his capacity to feel pain. "Useful technique, that," he thought through a growing delirium. "I must remember to teach it to Sensible Potter. Assuming I survive, that is."

Focusing past the pain, he sent a return Blasting Curse of his own back towards his pursuers, but Miss Demeanor was able to casually dodge his attack with inhuman grace. Then, off to his side, Snape was distracted by the sound of trees being pulled up from their roots, and seconds later, Bellatrix emerged from the woods atop an enormous oak that she'd transfigured into a humanoid shape and animated before riding it into battle as if it were an Ent from that old Muggle book that Lily had once forced him to read. From the opposite side of the clearing, Miss Demeanor leaped from tree to tree as she moved into position for the kill.

Snape closed his eyes and focused on his last resort. He reached deep inside his own psyche and unlocked a long-hidden door that he'd barricaded shut sometime around the age of sixteen. Bellatrix and her Ent advanced towards him menacingly when suddenly there was another explosion, this time at the midsection of the Ent. It shuddered violently, and Bellatrix was flung from it down to the ground. A second explosion blasted out one of its legs and a third spell caused the whole tree to catch fire. Immediately, the mighty oak started to fall … right towards the stunned and prone Bellatrix. At the last possible second, she apparated away just before the great flaming mass would have crushed her.

Meanwhile, Miss Demeanor looked around wildly in search of the new intruder. Taking advantage of her distraction, Snape fired off several vicious curses towards the assassin. Most she was able to dodge or parry, but a few got through. Her situation grew worse when more spells came at her at a flanking direction from deeper in the forest. Outnumbered and unable to defend against both attackers, Miss Demeanor followed the lead of her other self and apparated away.

The immediate threat over, Snape took the opportunity to heal his leg while he waited for his "savior" to approach. Seconds later, the Advocatus Diabolis emerged from the forest, her red hair flashing like fire itself in the reflected glow of the still-burning tree. And as she drew near, her eyes flashed the green of the Killing Curse. Snape closed his eyes in resignation.

"Wonderful," he thought. "Twenty seconds in, and she's already angry with me."

"It's been quite a long time, Snivellus," said Lily Evans with a cold sneer. "Mind telling me what you've dragged me into now?"

Christmas came early.

AN 1: Tentative update schedule (obviously the holidays are screwing with everything).
Dec 19, 2018 – DEM Ch 26 update on and AO3
Dec 27, 2018 – Strangers In Boston on TSM's website for Patrons
Jan 2, 2019 – DEM Ch 27 draft on TSM's website for Discord followers
Jan 5, 2019 – DEM Ch 27 on and AO3

AN 2: Italicized passages are from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Ch 10. As per usual, I only directly quote JKR when it's POS plot relevant.

AN 3: Special shout-out to the good folks at the POS-Editorial chat on The Sinister Man's Discord Page: patronus, darkphoenix31, FeatheryMinx, CuredentTepes, and, of course, the indefatigable Ozzie.

Check out the Discord Page yourself if you wish to get advance peeks at upcoming chapters, discuss your POS theories, or find out about (and hopefully support) The Sinister Man's original fiction.

AN 4: Milestones! We have broken 11k Followers! And we have nearly 1000 members on The Sinister Man's Discord page!