August 6th, 1985

Severus weighed the Knut in his hand, considering the small bronze coin carefully. He was no expert in Transfiguration, which Portkey creation was a subset of, but he thought that he had it right. He would have preferred to consult with Prof- with Minerva, of course, but he didn't have the time. His Master would be returning that night, and with him he would bring sure death to Harry Potter. Severus, no matter his mistakes and tangled loyalties, was not like so many of the Death Eaters, torturing and killing with a sense of satisfaction or even joy. Or, at least, he liked to think that he was not like them, which amounted to the same thing in the end.

Of course, as a spy in the service of two Master Legilimens, his mind was hardly its own place.

He brought his wand over the Knut yet again, testing it, and as far as he could tell the Transfiguration was holding. It would take Harry Potter to the Order's headquarters, safe and sound. The boy would live, and Severus would get the satisfaction of being able to save someone right before getting it knocked right out of him again by the torture that was sure to follow.

Because, really, Severus knew that at this point he was just putting it off. He was afraid, afraid that his plan wouldn't work, afraid that his true loyalties (whatever those were) would be revealed to his Master, and most of all he was afraid of the pain he knew was coming. It was pathetic, sure, but he didn't want to be tortured. He had seen and, on occasion, felt enough of what the Dark Lord could do, and he had no desire to bring His wrath down upon him.

Severus dropped the Knut into his pocket and went to relieve Fellows from the task of guarding Harry. He would do what he had to.

"You may go," he said, nodding at her. She grinned back, looking far too much like Bellatrix for his liking. Predatory. Dangerous.

"Go an' 'ave fun, then," she said. Severus twitched his lips into a small smirk as he entered the room where the boy was being kept.

"Hi!" the boy said. "Are you gonna give me more po-"

"Imperio," Severus said. Harry Potter's mind offered him no resistance, how could it? A five-year-old was no match for a seasoned Death Eater. "When I leave the room, you will run out of this house and into the woods. When you leave the wards, you will take this coin," he slipped the Knut into the boy's pocket, "and say 'Lily.' You will then go into the house there and find someone you know and trust. Tell no one that I helped you unless I give you permission."

"Okay," the boy said. Severus relaxed slightly and waited. Far above them, a cauldron he had so carelessly left on the heat exploded, and he raced out of the room, leaving the door flapping behind him. He glanced back, just for a moment, and saw the boy dashing out of the room and turning down the hallway.

By the time that Severus made it to his makeshift lab, Fellows, Yarrow, and Porter had already contained the mess. Porter immediately turned to him and started to complain. Severus only half-listened to him, mentally calculating how long it would take the boy to make it to the edge of the wards in the woods, trying to figure out how long he could risk dithering in the lab. After a full minute (in which Yarrow had joined in the chastisement), he let his eyes suddenly grow wide.

"Oh, shit," he said.

"What is it?" Porter groaned.

"Shut up," Severus snapped. "I ran up here so fast – But I just wanted to make sure no one had gotten hurt. Oh my God, He's going to kill me. I'm so dead."

"What t'e fuck 'ave you done?" said Fellows.

"I left the damn door open!" Fellows cursed again and ran down the stairs, Severus right at her heels. Sure enough, the boy's door was wide open. They looked down the hallway and saw that the door to the outside was opened as well.

"Oh, Merlin, what are we going to do now?" said Yarrow.

"He'll kill us all, you know he will," said Porter with a kind of rough matter-of-fact-ness. "Might as well start writing out our epitaphs, since there won't be any family left to write them when He's gotten to them as well."

"I will be taking full responsibility," Severus said. All three of the young Unmarked looked at him, faces ranging from controlled surprise (Porter) to outright shock (Yarrow). "It was my mistake and mine alone. You may, of course, feel his displeasure nonetheless, but you will not be killed." Severus's own fate was far more uncertain, although he didn't really believe that his life was in danger. The Dark Lord, no matter how evil and maniacal, was a Slytherin, and any true Slytherin would know that it was pure folly to give up a spy, especially one as well-placed as he was. Risking his own safety by telling the Dark Lord the "truth" would solidify any sort of alliance that Porter, Yarrow, and Fellows might have been considering with him.

He ordered the others upstairs, and then he prepared himself to contact his Master. If he didn't, the torture would only be worse.

Severus, what is it?

"Master, I have grave news. I have failed you." The way the Dark Lord tore through his mind was as expected as it was painful.

What is the meaning of this? Severus stifled a scream as he grabbed his left forearm. It felt like his Mark had acid poured on it, like it was on fire, like-

"My Lord, in my panic at the idea that one of my Unmarked may have been injured by the explosion, I neglected to lock the door behind me. Harry Potter has escaped."

You have failed me, Severus. Severus gulped, screwing up his eyes against the tears that threatened to pour out. "You have failed me very badly." He looked up, and standing there was his Master.

"Master, I-"

"I will listen to no excuses, not from you," the Dark Lord said coldly. "You will be punished, Severus. You will beg for me to stop, but I will not. Deep down you know you deserve it. You have failed me so utterly. And then, when I am done, perhaps I will show you mercy and kill you."

"My Lord-" Severus didn't have time to brace himself further.

"Crucio."