Author's Note: YAY! (that is all I have to say this time) Oh, and of course: thank you all reviewers!
The reunion
A few days had passed since Harry had returned from the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, and he had now just begun to realize the extent of destruction the remaining Death Eaters managed to cause. They were really on a rampage; pillaging, raping, torturing, stealing and killing everything they came across. They sat fire to houses, fields and stores, they killed with both magic and muggle weapons, they could attack in broad daylight in the middle of the street, causing huge massacres.
As time went by, they all began to realize that the Death Eaters were not just aiming casually, they were led by someone. Whether it was a larger group or just one leader, they had no idea. It was rare to catch a Death Eater alive, they seemed to prioritize suicide over prison.
Some of course, had tried to be reasonable, willingly reporting themselves at the Ministry. It was, however, quite disconcerting to see how well Voldemort had learned from his past mistakes. Very few Death Eaters knew anything at all of what had been going on beside their own orders. Only the ones in high positions seemed to hold any sort of information. But they would rather bite of their tongues and drown in their own blood than confess, as Harry had witnessed at one occasion. More human lives had been lost now than through the entire war combined. It was as if Hell had opened it's gates and released all the evil it contained.
---
The Burrow had been reinforced a tenth fold by all the means they knew how, and it was bustling to the edges with people seeking refuge. The old house had grown considerably, now sporting several new floors and rooms, a collected effort by all in the Order when they had been forced to move their headquarter for the third time.
People, both in and out of the Order, were now occupying the open house, either running with a new message or just taking a breath before they were off again.
It was late at night, and Harry had just hunched down on his heels with a cup of tea at his favourite spot beside the kitchen oven, relaxing his tired muscles. Even though he lacked any formal training, Harry had been unceremoniously given a pair of auror robes and a certificate proclaiming him one. At least for the time being. The work was hard, dirty and everlasting. And he hated it.
Everything was chaos in the kitchen, and sporting a famous scar didn't grant Harry anymore space than was absolutely necessary for him. Mindful of this, Harry tried to make himself as small as possible, keeping his balance as to not be bumped by hurrying feet and scold himself on the oven.
'Hullo Harry, are you sitting on the floor again?' a recognizable voice asked, and looking up it turned out to be a quite tired looking Hermione. Harry just shrugged and tried a smile, feeling how stiff his facial muscles had become the past few days. Sighing and hunching down beside him, Hermione rubbed her face a few times in a pretense to look a bit more alert.
'It has been a long day,' she said, accepting the last bit of tea left in Harry's cup as he proffered it to her.
'It has indeed,' Harry conceded, 'and tomorrow will be just as long, if not longer.'
'Oh... yes... I would presume so.'
They sat in silence for a little while, both too tired to really strike up any sort of conversation. The days of merry chatting was over, and they both knew it. At least until the unrest had been settled and they could breathe a bit again.
'I heard they catch Rodolphus Lestrange last night,' Harry said, knowing that only one of the feared threesome remained, 'apparently he lost what little sanity he had left after Neville killed Bellatrix.'
'Hmm,' Hermione nodded contemplatively, 'I guess Rabastan will be the next one. Unless he kills himself that is.'
'I wonder where Snape is though...'
All of the most prominent Death Eaters had been seen on one or more occasions since Voldemort's fall, though they had captured only a few. They had, however, not seen either hide nor hair of Snape. It was as if he had disappeared into the ground. He knew his field all too well, Harry mused. The slimy spy knew exactly how both sides worked from the inside, so it was probably not difficult for him to stay hidden.
'Snape might be dead...,' Hermione tried weakly, but Harry could hear she was far from convinced by her own statement.
'I wouldn't count on it,' he said darkly. 'If someone knows how to survive, it's that bastard. If I ever get my hands around his throat I'll choke him so slowly that I'll be able to watch his last painful minutes before he die. And he'll know I did it to him, and he'll know I did it for Dumbeldore!'
The vehemence in Harry's voice surprised even himself, and by the shocked expression on Hermione's face he knew he'd gone too far.
'So much hate...' she sighed quietly, draining the cup of the little sugary tea that was left before standing. 'Try not to let it consume you.' Her pleading eyes made Harry want to slap her. He knew full well that something nasty had begun moving inside him, something he didn't dare touch. It had been growing inside him all since the death of Sirius. A certain vile bitterness that made him gag just by thinking about it. The need to survive had made him suppress it however, but time and again he could feel it flash through him, and the impulses he had to force down scared him.
'I'll be fine,' he mumbled at last, just to get her to leave him if nothing else. She did hesitantly, but was stopped in her tracks over the kitchenfloor by the door suddenly bursting open. This was not unusual in and off itself, but when a haggard and bloodied Colin Creevey appeared breathless in the door staring at them with wide eyes, Harry found himself standing from his spot.
'It's him,' he wheezed, effectively gaining everyone's attention, 'we got him. Snape. Just now.'
'What?' Harry half shouted, hurrying over to catch Colin before he fell to the floor. It looked like he was in really bad shape, his breath gurgling with either blood or slime and black scorch marks covering most of his body. Dragging him all the way into the kitchen and carefully placing him on the floor, Harry was soon assisted when the others overcame their initial shock.
'You got Snape?' asked Fred Weasley as he tried to establish eyecontact, 'now? How, where is he?'
'Take it easy on him,' snapped Hermione as she effectively arranged Colin in a stable position so that he could breathe easier. Harry wanted nothing more than to shake the truth out of the boy, but kept himself barely in check.
'Colin,' said Harry carefully as not to tick Hermione off, 'it is important that you elaborate a bit please?'
It was apparent that the young boy struggled to stay conscious, and the labour he had to put into actually managing to move his lips looked painful. But Colin hadn't ended up in Gryffindor without a reason.
'Ngh... We cornered him as he was about to... uhm... apparate... and...' Colin was seized by a coughing fit before he could go on, 'it was a terrible fight, but... ah.' Drifting out for a bit, Colin's eyes seemed to un focus a few seconds, 'Moody finally managed to knock him out cold... though.' And then he disappeared, head lolling limply on his shoulders.
'They must have taken him to the Ministry then,' said Fred as he got up from the floor together with Harry, 'seeing as there were official aurors present and all.'
'Yeah, lets go,' urged Harry, already heading towards the chair where his auror robe was carelessly thrown away. His hands were shaking with the suppressed emotions surging through him, he didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or to cry. They had Snape.
'Harry,' began a dangerous voice behind him, and turning around it revealed to be a fuming Hermione Granger. She was sitting by Colin still, a hand on his forehand, staring flaming daggers into Harry. 'You will not leave him like this. You are to take him to Hogwarts so that he might get some medical care.'
'Oh come off it Hermione,' said Fred in an exasperated voice as he already stood by the door, waiting for Harry to follow. 'This is important, it's Snape we're talking about! One of Voldemort's most loyal servants! Think about all the information he must have...'
Hermione's eyes seemed to glow even more dangerously, and Harry couldn't even remember having been so afraid of his good friend. Baring her teeth at Fred, he was certain she would start hissing at him, but instead she continued in a collected tone,
'Yes, I am quite aware it's Snape. But this is Colin, your friend. He need your help now. Snape can wait, he won't be going anywhere anytime soon.'
Harry felt undecided. It itched in him to go the Ministry. Somehow he felt he couldn't rest until he had seen that they had Snape there, and that there was no chance for him to escape. But as Hermione had stated, Colin was his friend, and he had come all the way still wounded just to inform Harry about what had happened. He owed the brave Gryffindor something.
'Yeah ok, we'll take him with us,' sighed Harry before draping the robes over his shoulders, 'come on Fred.'
---
They were both quiet as they apparated to Hogwarts to give Colin over to Madame Pomfrey's capable hands. Harry was clenching his teeth so hard together his jaw started to ache. It all went like a blur, his heart was beating harshly, almost to the point of pain.
Trying to focus on the task ahead, he found he couldn't. The feeling of dread and anticipation was clenching in his gut, making him realize that he was even more nervous now than he had been a few nights previously. When he had faced Voldemort.
This was, in many ways, personal on an entirely different level. Voldemort had been so easy to hate. It had been so justified. And Harry had always had an outlet for his anger, everyone had supported him. But as he had grown up and every instinct in him had screamed that he should not trust Snape, Dumbledore or some other wellmeaning person had asked him to keep that hatred under a tight leash. Then the unspeakable happened, and Harry's raging feelings had been set loose. Just to be tied up again, but this time by himself. Through all the years Snape had played him like a yo-yo. The second Harry thought he was justified in hating the man, he turned right around and played the hero, saving Harry and his friend's lives.
Harry was so confused in his feelings towards his older teacher, he didn't even know if it was hatred anymore. It had metamorphosed into something completely different, something Harry had no name on.
Sadly, the hospital wing was even more crowded now than it had been after the battle with Voldemort. But the hospital wing was not the only place in an uproar. During the last couple of days the entire school had been shut down and re-opened as a hostel. The common-rooms and dormitories were used, much like the Burrow, to accommodate targeted or split families. In the entrance hall there was a huge billboard put up with lists of missing or found people, and in the Great Hall people ate and exchanged news.
The only thing Harry found positive with it all was how the wizarding world had become reunited again. They fought together, no matter what blood or past history, to fight their common enemy. An enemy no one was guaranteed safety from, even if you could boast the most galleons in your Gringots Vault.
Having one of Colin's arms draped around each of their shoulders, Harry and Fred hurried up the marble stairs as fast as they could. Even if some part of Harry's brain was annoyed at the level of ruthlessness he showed, he just couldn't help the impatience. After all these years he was finally going to be standing face to face to Snape again. He wanted to show him how much he had grown, how strong he had become. How much wiser. Just prove to him that he was more than Snape had claimed him to be. Then Snape would know how wrong he had been, and he would be sorry. Oh so very sorry.
---
They had soon enough gotten a bed for Colin with assistance from Neville who had begun helping out in the hospital wing as he slowly regained his health. When they mentioned their errand in whispers over the young boy's still form, Harry saw Neville's eyes grow black in hatred and anger. He clenched his jaw, much like both Harry and Fred were doing, and busied himself by making sure Colin rested comfortably. After having visibly composed himself, he looked up at them, his face void of any expression.
"I hope he burns in hell," said Neville, his voice cold. Harry could feel Fred pull back just as his own heart made an uncomfortable lurch. Harry wanted to tell himself that he was now staring at an adult and grown Neville, but instead he felt certain that something had been lost on that battleground. He was not the only one with a divided conscience and confused anger.
"Are you coming with us?" asked Fred finally, as the silence had dragged out too long to be comfortable anymore.
"No I don't think so," Neville shook his head, "Madame Pomfrey has yet to discharge me, and I don't trust myself around that man..."
Both Harry and Fred nodded in understanding, but was at the same time marvelling at Neville's self restraint. None of them could find the self discipline not to travel directly to the Ministry to get a good look at Snape themselves.
Their obligatory errands had been made, and they were hurrying down the stairs again so fast their robes billowed behind them.
---
The Ministry was in it's usual chaotic state when they arrived, aurors and other personnel hurrying back and forth with their errands. Losing no time having their wands checked, Harry and Fred rushed into the elevator. In times of war the dungeon floors were made into makeshift prison cells where they could house criminals and suspects before either releasing them or put them into further custody at Azkaban.
The dungeon corridors were well lit and guards were standing in groups chatting with each other. It seemed like the uproar had just calmed down as the murmur was still quite excited. Harry couldn't help but silently curse himself for wasting time back at the Burrow while other's fought what he himself viewed as his battle. Snape had been the one to sell out his parents and Snape had been the one to murder his mentor.
But Snape had also been the one to help them out whenever the situation was at it's most dire. If it indeed was him, and not some other anonymous person. Right now, Harry wasn't too sure Snape had been their man at all. Though he knew deep inside that it could have been none other.
'So you have nothing better to do than stand here and gossip?' Fred snapped at a group of young aurors, all being his juniors. They promptly ceased their chattering and scattered each to their post. A middle aged man with glasses and the air of someone used to wielding his authority came walking out of one of the unlocked doors further down the corridor. Glancing at both of them, his gaze lingering just a second too long on Harry's scar, he reached out his hand and presented himself.
'My name is Mr. Martin, I've just been transferred from Azkaban. Nice to meet you both.'
Harry and Fred returned the greeting by introducing themselves and their status, receiving nothing but an indifferent nod.
'Good, good,' he said, waving at two other guards as he fished out his keys from the belt in his robe. 'I am guessing it's Snape you're here to see. He has just been put under interrogation, so this visit will be quite short. As you all know this is not in our procedure and the only reason you're given an exception is your name, Mr. Potter.'
Harry didn't like the sound of the truth, but he supposed it was much better having the cards lied openly out on the table. It was no secret he received special treatment wherever he went. First because of his scar, and now for his second defeat of Voldemort.
Mr. Martin inserted the large bronze key in the door just as the two guards he had summoned lifted the wards with their wands.
Harry wasn't certain of what he expected to see when they opened the dungeon door. The sight that greeted him was mostly darkness, with only one burning torch, illuminating the scene he'd wanted to see since Dumbledore's death. In the middle of the cell sat Snape on his knees, feet secured with manacles to the floor, hands tied behind his back, a long chain making sure he had no other options but to stay the way he was tied up. Around his head they had bound a black piece of clothing, blindfolding him. Looking closer, Harry could see the chains shimmering in silver. They would take no chances, having even bound his magic though he possessed no wand.
Snape's head had been bent, but as soon as the door opened, he had lifted it, and was now intently listening to their footsteps as they walked into the room.
Making his way around the still form so that he could see Snape from the front, Harry noticed blood and puss still oozing from a cut in his forehand, his left cheek was bruised so badly it had blackened. It looked like someone had given him a good kick in the head.
The sharp intake of breath Snape took before holding it told Harry that he was quite nervous of what was going to happen next. The "interrogation" Mr. Martin had mentioned previously was a procedure were the guards would periodically enter the cell and beat the prisoner until he broke and spilled a confession. This intensive treatment would only last for about 24 hours before the prisoner either told them what they wanted to hear, or was sent to Azkaban for longer keeping. Obviously Snape had already received his share of "interrogation" before they reached the Ministry, even if it had only taken them about half an hour.
Looking over at Fred, Harry could tell he was just as clueless on how to handle the situation as himself. Snape had been their professor, authority and ally for such a long time, it felt almost absurd to see him reduced to such a state. Fidgeting slightly, the chains rattling loudly against the stone floor, Snape changed his weight, his breath pitching rather painfully as he did so.
'Hello, Snape,' said Harry at last, watching as Snape struggled to place his voice. When he finally did, his shoulders stiffened and his jaw clenched. 'I see you recognize who I am.'
Snape neither confirmed or denied this as every muscle in his body grew taunt.
'Looking at your reaction, I'd say you know you're in deep shit this time.'
The silence rested heavily down upon them again, until Snape's mouth finally began to move, his broken voice sending uneasy shivers down Harry's spine.
'Why don't you take off my blindfold, so that I might see you?'
His voice was neither cold, hateful or shrewd, it was just broken, and his words nothing but a faint memory of the manipulator he had once been. Harry almost felt the compulsion to mourn a great man lost.
'You know I can't do that,' answered Harry with as much detachment as he could muster, 'we haven't forgotten you're one of the best legilemes of this decade. If not this century.'
'Such flatter,' mumbled Snape, 'but I have no strength left for that.'
Harry considered to heed his will, as he really couldn't believe the man beaten and chained to the floor could pose any threat to five armed wizards, but remembered at the last second who he was conversing with. One couldn't believe a word coming out of a Slytherin's mouth. This depression and this brokedness could all just be an act.
Settling down on his heels in front of Snape, Harry took a hand to the man's bruised face. Startled, Snape pulled back, but Harry caught his chin and held his head forcefully in place. The only thing that could indicate the pain this caused was a slight quivering of Snape's upper lip. Quenching the need to tighten his grip even further, Harry could feel himself shake slightly with the adrenaline rushing through his veins.
'Tell me, why did you kill Dumbledore?' hissed Harry, the acidic hatred dripping from his voice, 'was it some sort of revenge you felt you needed? A spur of the moment thing? Your master set you up to it? Tell me!'
Snape was silent, his lips pinched together as he breathed forcefully through his nose. It seemed like it took a lot of effort to pull himself together so that he wouldn't say something he would regret later.
'Believe what you want,' he eventually whispered, and Harry could feel the burning glare of Snape's black eyes even through the blindfold.
'I don't want to believe anything!' bristled Harry, rushing to his feet to stand over Snape with fisted hands, 'I want to KNOW, damn you!"
Snape just turned his face away, clearly signalling that he would tell them nothing. Losing the little restraint he had left, Harry forcefully let his fist meet with Snape's temple, sending him to the floor with a loud thud. The sickening crack his head made as it collided with the tiles testified that he had probably got yet another fracture to his skull. They all just stared in shock as the man lied completely still on the floor, not a muscle moving, dark blood beginning to pool around his head.
'I think you struck him out cold,' said Fred silently as one of the guards bent down to check Snape's pulse, 'or at least that's what I hope you did.'
