Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry that this chapter took a while before it got updated. Unfortunately I managed to spill tea all over my laptop, effectively losing all my notes... Hopefully I will regain it sometime during this week or the next, but I'm not sure.
The
Answer
The breath hitched in Harry's throat and his mouth was left half open as he stared at the five redheads. His initial reaction was to laugh, long and hard at it all, they could hardly be serious? Slave? That was not even legal; it was against the international human rights! Why on earth would they be making such sick jokes at this hour? After all they had been through?
The only sound that managed to get through Harry's clogged throat was a feeble 'what?' however.
'Your slave Harry. We will make Snape your slave.' repeated Percy patiently, using his index finger to push his hornrimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
'What?' Harry spluttered once more, 'you must explain.'
'I would indeed have liked to do such a thing, but I hardly think it's the appropriate thing to do here."
Aurors hurried down the corridor, their arms full of papers or on their way to gather their own share. No, they would probably not get enough peace to discuss whatever there was to discuss. Neither would it be too wise to talk about Order business in a crowded corridor reasoned Harry.
'Fine,' he mumbled at last, still thrown off by their absurd suggestions, 'lets get back to the Burrow then, so you can explain to me what all this is about.'
It was quite disconcerting for Harry to see all the Weasley's faces, even the twin's, so serious and grim. The little voice inside Harry telling him this was just some strange kind of joke quieted and died away quite thoroughly. As they began walking towards the upper floors with Percy in the lead, Ron fell into steps beside Harry. His blue eyes had a strange kind of gleam to them, a certain apprehension. Ron knew very well how much Harry hated to be made the sacrificial goat, and that even after having been put in the front to execute a dark lord he was still being used. But Harry had grown a protective shield against it now. It just seemed like people got the strangest habits and relying on him to save the world was one of them. Had they once put such a burden on his shoulders they would most probably continue to do so until he broke down. Then they would scorn him.
Ron raised a hand and patted him friendly on the shoulder before giving one of his warm smiles. It was good comfort and Harry returned the gesture. This seemed to ease Ron's mind and heart at least a bit.
The twins suddenly received an urgent calling from their Auror division and they had to return to their offices to rapport at once, forcing Harry, Ron, Percy and Mr. Weasley to continue to the Burrow alone. When they reached their goal it was no surprise to find it occupied by everyone but those who actually lived in and owned the house. The visitors knew when it was time to leave however, and no sooner had Mr. Weasley begun to make a pot of tea had they all vacated the kitchen.
Hermione came shortly after, walking in together with Ginny and Remus. Moody had already found himself his favourite spot at the table and Professor McGonagall was on her way from Hogwarts together with Charlie.
A strong feeling of apprehension was building inside of Harry, the very same feeling he had seen in Ron just moments before. Almost the entire Order was being called in, something which was quite rare lately. Whatever had Percy meant with "slave"? Harry couldn't fathom that he had actually meant the word in its literal sense. But then again, when would the Wizarding World ever stop surprising him?
Opting against taking a seat by the table, Harry busied himself with finding cups and spoons for the tea. He didn't like to be seated when hard blows were being dealt to him, it reminded him too much of Dumbledore's office.
Hermione had already heard whispers from Ron about the nature of the meeting and stood by the door with a heavy scowl on her face. Harry knew that whatever this was, Hermione was going to oppose to it with all her might. Not that it had ever helped. No matter the objections, the engagement and the struggles, the Order's decisions were always absolute.
It was apparent that the rest of the Order was pretty much clueless about Percy's new plans as he began opening his books and papers all over the kitchen table. Remus leant over in his chair to take a peek at the text lying next to him, his face darkening just like Hermione's as he looked up at Percy. The young Weasley had pursed his lips, the neatly combed hair beginning to fall down over his pale brow. He seemed very anxious, but also quite resolute in his answers to their problems.
McGonagall and Charlie arrived just in time for the tea to be served and the commotion eventually died down. They had all turned to Percy now with intense interest and curiosity.
Letting the tips of his fingers rest against the table, Percy cleared his throat and began his explanations.
'We have called you all here tonight because I think I have found an answer to our problem concerning Snape's imprisonment.' Here he stopped to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose again, folding his pale hands in front of himself. He seemed nervous. 'I know many of you,' his gaze lingered on Hermione, 'will strongly oppose to this, as it does indeed violate some basic ethics. But the case is that this can be done, and it will without doubt be the most efficient way. We must remember that Snape has made his choice; he chose to desert us and fight for the Dark Lord instead. He betrayed us, and now he has something we need: information. I know how to get this information, and I am sure many of you are able to guess my plan.'
Moody had been scanning all the papers during the speech with his mad-eye, and was now smiling his rather mutated grin. He seemed to consent to the idea with all his heart as his healthy eye glittered in merriment.
'I'm afraid my imagination isn't strong enough,' said McGonagall as Percy kept prolonging the silence, 'what is this plan of yours?'
'Well,' Percy let a long finger trace the headlining text in one of his books, 'how can we legally claim Snape out of the hands of the Ministry and regain complete control of his life?'
'I told you, I don't know,' huffed McGonagall, pursing her lips and narrowing her catlike eyes behind her own glasses.
'As I've already told Harry and my family, we can make him a slave.'
A silence fell down upon the kitchen until Hermione broke it vehemently from her position by the door.
'This is absurd! To think this is even being considered! We cannot, for any reason, take the freedom away from another person!"
Percy's eyes grew round for a second and a flush crept to his face. 'Think about it Hermione,' he said in a forced voice, 'if we don't do this his freedom will never the less be taken away from him. He will be put in prison for the rest of his life. His mind, maybe his soul, will be taken from him. This way at least we might be able to save some lives. He owes us this much after what he has done."
'We have no right,' hissed Hermione through clenched teeth, tears springing to her eyes. Her heart was too soft for wars like this mused Harry. It kept on breaking for each life that was unjustly handled. Looking around the kitchen and at the other faces, Harry found them all to be carved in stone. They seemed unyielding except from Hermione's grief stricken expression and Moody's gleeful celebration. It was impossible to know what they thought about this, all Harry knew was that no one was opposing the idea. Could this really be done?
'And who will be his Master?' asked Remus eventually, his arms folded protectively across his chest, his hazel eyes hard.
'Naturally, that is to be Harry,' Percy inclined his head in Harry's direction and all of the Order's attention went to him. 'Harry has a life dept yet to be repaid, not even the Ministry can oppose that ancient magic.'
This was something Harry had completely forgotten; he had always believed the dept had been accounted for ages ago. But how did one pay back a life dept? Who decided when it was even?
'What do you think about all this Harry?' asked Remus, 'is this something you want to go through with?'
Harry stared at Percy with his green eyes, black curls falling around his face in a predictable chaos. He felt lost, as he often did whenever such decisions was up to him to make.
'I don't even know what this is all about,' he finally answered, lifting his hands in a surrendering gesture, 'I thought slavery was illegal?'
'In the muggle world it is, yes,' answered Percy helpfully, 'but it is still practiced here in the Wizarding World to some degree, even though it has become a quite rare thing.'
'So what you are saying to me is that here in the Wizarding World another human has the right to own another human?'
'Basically... yes.'
Harry was speechless. How could he go through with such a thing, even if it was Snape?
Snape.
The man who had indirectly killed his parents, the man who had quite willingly killed Dumbledore. A man who had served Voldemort. Snape had already sold his heart and his soul.
The recognizable feeling of cold anger and hatred so hard it felt like steel inside him returned to Harry. How could he not cheer for such a chance at revenge? Granted, he didn't know all there was to know about this subject, and with the Wizarding World nothing was ever as easy as it first seemed.
'Will you go through with this or not?' asked Moody, hardly able to contain his excitement.
Harry bowed his head and put a finger to his lips in a pondering position. His skin was so pale it almost shimmered blue in his exhaustion and continuous worry. They all looked exhausted, but somehow it seemed more ghastly on Harry, contrasting with the dark locks carefully nestling in the nape of his neck.
Moody's question swirled around in his mind. He felt something for Snape, but he couldn't in all honesty call it hate. It was something above and beyond that, something even more passionate, but he had no name for it. He wanted to see the man suffer, see him beg Harry for forgiveness and mercy, but what Harry wanted the most was to finally pardon him for it.
As this realization struck him, Harry could feel his heart cramp together painfully and he was certain he was going to faint right where he stood. Such an idea! How could he ever forgive? No. Forcefully Harry pushed the newborn thought away, concealed it inside himself and hid it deeply.
Finally he lifted his head, staring with vacant and faded green eyes upon the others in the room. Remus firmly kept his gaze off him and he seemed almost disgusted. Ginny beside him had huge and round eyes, unable to believe it all. Moody tapped the table with his fingers impatiently; he couldn't believe his luck in catching this long sought after Death Eater. Mr. Weasley seemed almost fragile, feeling guilt for doing this to another person. Percy was still nervous, but at the same time even more resolute. McGonagall was completely unreadable, her lips pursed and eyes stony hard, she hated the idea but she knew it had to be done. Charlie wore the same expression as Ron, uncertainty and curiosity. But Hermione made Harry stop, it seemed like she hardly could contain the fury inside her. The fact that he was even pondering the suggestion disgusted her, her brown eyes rimmed red from the unshed tears.
'If there is no other way,' Harry spoke up at last, 'I'll do it.'
---
Harry was achingly aware of how little he really knew of what he had just given his assents to do. He sat on his bed in the little room that he shared with the twins and Ron up in the top floor at the Burrow, looking through a book Remus had given him. It was a book on slavery, of course.
A new day had barely dawned since the Order meeting the previous evening and everything was still being discussed. They had all agreed that this was the best, indeed the only, way they could gain the information that they so desperately needed. Of course, there would always be a few souls that had difficulties in dealing with their conscience. Hermione had at once threatened that she would leave the Order if they did not change their minds. They had not, so she had dried her tears, raised her head, thanked them for their time together and walked straight out of the Burrow. They all knew they had lost a keyplayer, and some, like Ginny, wasn't entirely sure that trading the information Snape might give them for their loyal fellow Hermione was the right thing to do. But the elders in the Order had soon consoled them all, Hermione was a bright girl they had said, she knew that this was the best answer to their struggles. She would come back.
Harry knew she wouldn't. But neither would she leave them entirely to their own devices as she cared too much about them for that.
The book Harry was pouring through was heavy and difficult to digest. It contained all the history of the slave trade, new laws and all possible views on the ethics. Mostly Harry just tried to understand the laws and the restrictions. It slowly dawned on him how much power he now would be able to wield over another life. But of course, with the power came immense responsibility.
Apparently slavery was an old tradition. It was quite rare that new slaves were bound in this day and age and the slaves that still remained belonged to the very richest of the rich in the aristocrat world. A slavebond would be passed from parent to child down through the generations until the slave ancestry was as old and renowned as the family they served. Looking at the dates Harry realized that the last time someone had been enslaved had been in 1840 when a new popularity for owning slaves had risen again. Then it had been like a plague rushing through the upper class in the Wizarding society and everyone had wanted his or her personal little assistant. Because of this the Ministry had made new laws and restrictions. They weren't terribly humanistic, and Harry couldn't fathom that they hadn't made it illegal ages ago. But of course, it was the aristocrats who stood behind it, and they had always been able to manipulate the Ministry to their own advantage.
Some examples on the new guidelines that had been set for the slave masters were things like:
"A Master may never take a slave's life either with conscious effort or by excessive corporal punishment.
A Master may punish his/her slave as he/she sees fit as long as this does not endanger the slave's life.
A Master may only let his/her slave work six days a week, upon the seventh day the slave is entitled to rest."
These were just some of the rules that had been considered as quite liberal according to the times. Many had even found them to be too liberal, and political arguments had ensured. Harry wondered who would report it if a Master did not act according to the rules? He felt certain no one would take the slave's complaints all that seriously.
The next section contained page up and page down with restrictions and rights that concerned the slave directly. Skimming through the list only a few paragraphs stood out to Harry:
"A slave who commits a crime against the Law may not be punished by his/her Master, but has the right to trial. In such a circumstance the Master will have the right to choose the slave's spokesperson.
A slave must obey any order given to him/her by his/her Master. This accounts for indirect orders as well.
A slave must never remove him/herself more than 1000 meters away from his/her Master unless the Master gives explicit permission to do so."
Even though all these rules made Harry reel, there were two paragraphs that made him break out in outright sweat:
"The Master will be able to hold complete control over the slave's body, soul and magic."
And:
"Once the slave is bound by the manacles of slavery, he/she may never regain his/her freedom."
This was serious business.
The apprehension that had plagued him the night before returned to him. How could Harry ever be a master to a man as strong as Snape? Raising his head and letting his hand stroke the curls away from his forehead, Harry felt the warmth of the sun through the window. Closing his eyes he could see little particles of light dance over his blue hued eyelids, black eyelashes contrasting against the white skin. Breathing out carefully, Harry tried to summon a calm and serenity that he hadn't felt in years. It didn't come to him. The blood kept rushing painfully through his veins, making his heart beat heavily and without consistency.
A knock was heard on the door, and as Harry opened his eyes he saw Remus carefully making his way through the room between the beds. Sighing inwardly Harry made himself ready for yet another discussion with the patient werewolf.
'So, you're absolutely certain about all this?' asked Remus as he sat down on the bed opposite Harry's. Harry just nodded. Remus knew he was certain, why even ask? 'You look tired.'
'I am.'
He was, Harry was just too tired. It felt like the bones inside his body were crumbling apart and that his muscles faded away. Harry was certain that if he ever really fell asleep, because he didn't consider the tossing and the turning through the night as sleep, he would never wake again.
Remus raised a warm hand and rested it comfortingly against Harry's cheek, his eyes were such a beautiful brown, glowing warmly in the young sunlight. A deep sadness had never the less been ingrained in the weary features of Remus face, and even if he smiled there was no hiding the crushed heart inside him. Ruins.
Letting the hand fall, Remus took Harry's thin ones into his own and held them tightly.
'You'll tell him?'
'Who?'
'Snape.'
Harry bowed his head in consent. Of course he would tell Snape, who else were there? Who else but him would enjoy seeing the expression on the fallen man's face as he realized his life was being taken from him?
'Remember he is human too, Harry.'
'No he's not.'
'Show mercy, for your own sake.'
'I'll show him as much mercy as he showed me.'
---
The fact that Snape was still being held in custody at the Ministry was quite unusual. His period of interrogation should have ended after twenty four hours, but over a week had passed since his imprisonment. It spoke volumes about the desperation the Ministry now felt in having to obtain at least some information from their captive.
Percy with his knack for talking had gone together with Moody, Mr. Weasley, Charlie and Bill to Scrimgeour's office. They hoped to successfully present their case and that he would agree to it. Of course, the Minister didn't hold the complete authority to allow this plan to be put into action, but having him on their team would greatly advance their position.
Harry on the other hand, had continued downwards in the elevator until he was at the bottom floors. He just hoped Mr. Martin was in a better mood today.
Actually, Harry had reason to believe he was not there at all today. Harry believed he was helping escorting a new group of Death Eaters to Azkaban. Harry didn't think he would have any problems in charming his way into Snape's cell if Mr. Martin had put a young Auror to assist while he was gone.
It had been no surprise to Harry when he found that all his assumptions had been correct. Of course, the twins had been behind it all. They had told him the day ahead that everything had been orchestrated for him, and that the assistant happened to be a huge fan of the Boy Who Lived. Without much struggle at all, Harry soon found himself facing the prison door as the fumbling young auror unlocked the door and two others lifted the wards.
'I'd like to be alone, thank you,' said Harry in a clipped tone as the door opened to him and he stepped into the darkness.
Snape was still bound as before, but his straight and tentative pose was gone. He sat bowed as far down towards the floor as the chains would let him, his matted hair almost touching the stone tiles.
'Having fun?' asked Harry, moving towards the illuminated circle in the middle of the room. Snape didn't react at once. Slowly he collected himself, straining the muscles in his legs and back to be able to rise in a half alerted position. 'Why don't you tell them? Why do you go through all this when you could just quit this hell? It doesn't strike me as very Slytherin behaviour.'
Snape's skin was if possible even paler than Harry's, contrasted rudely by the blackening bruises. It seemed like they were being allowed to heal however, now that the aurors in charge of the interrogation no longer aimed at his head. The ink black hair was tousled and covered half his face, a few strands still caught up in the dried blood on his cheek. He almost seemed fragile there he sat staring blindly in the direction of Harry, the blindfold still in place. Snape had most probably not seen light in the entire time he had been prisoner. Harry got an alien feeling of desperately wanting to touch Snape's face, to stroke his cold skin.
Walking up to him, Harry bowed down and untied the bloody piece of cloth. Carefully Snape blinked a few times, his eyelashes fluttering as he tried to get used to the muted light of the torch. After a few moments he was able to keep his eyes open, and he stared up at Harry standing over him. His eyes were as black as coal, slightly widened in silent wonder and horror. It had not escaped Snape's notice that Harry was the only one in the room. Harry didn't doubt that the chained man knew that the Ministry was growing desperate. They could be forced to do anything. Snape was too tired and too bruised to be able to effectively hide his fright and apprehension, his lips slightly parted and his eyes locked on Harry.
'What do you think I'll do to you now?' asked Harry without expecting an answer. Just as well, as he did not receive one. 'I don't think you're able to guess, but maybe you can read it from my mind?' A cruel smile crept across Harry's face, and he bowed down again, letting his hands rest on his knees. 'What do you say to be wearing my family crest on your wrists?"
Snape understood the implication at once, knowing very well how masters marked their slaves. The muted horror grew on his face, and he slowly shook his head from one side to the other, not taking his gaze off Harry.
'Tell me what you know and you won't be forced into this you know.'
A quiet desperation replaced his look of horror, and Snape's lips began to move carefully, cracking because of their dryness.
'You can't do this,' he whispered hoarsely, 'they can't allow it.'
A chill laughter rose from Harry, creating a misplaced echo between the damp stonewalls.
'It wasn't even my idea,' murmured Harry, rising himself tall again, 'they all agreed that this would be the best course of action, unless you tell me everything now, of course.'
Snape shook his head again, closing his eyes tightly.
'It's all up to you you know!' hissed Harry, and looked at the bloody cloth he still held in his hand. How many times hadn't he dreamed to possess such a power over the professor he thought he hated? Gingerly Harry took a few steps backwards on his shaking legs, not taking his gaze off the blindfold in his hand. The texture had become stiff and raw because of the dried blood and sweat. Sighing heavily and combing the other hand through his curls, he eventually let his eyes fall back upon Snape. How could the torchlight manage to make his skin so illuminated? The dark circles underneath Snape's eyes practically shone in a faded blue, so fragile and beautiful, almost like painted rice paper.
'Why can't you tell me? What have you left to lose? They won't save you, Ill save you!'
Snape stared at him, swaying slightly now that he had taxed his remaining strengths to the limit.
'There is nothing to tell,' he said, black eyes half closing as he tipped forwards before hastily pulling himself together.
Stepping forward, Harry roughly bound the blindfold back around Snape's head.
'Enjoy your darkness.'
