There was no time to lose. After checking on the Gryffindor third-year dormitory and finding it empty indeed, Minerva returned to her office, shoved a heap of essays aside (their essays, she thought bitterly) and spread before herself on the desktop a large and empty piece of parchment.
'Forest,' she muttered, drawing a giant circle onto the parchment, 'Hogwarts.'
Another circle, inside the first one. Afterwards, the deputy headmistress stopped for a while and, considering all odds, eventually placed a few squares on the edges of the bigger circle.
'Godric's Hollow, Diagon Alley, King's Cross,' she muttered. 'Oh no, they did set up a barrier at that entrance only last year.'
Her quill went on scribbling for some time, while Minerva turned and started browsing through her papers. 'Distances,' she mumbled. 'McGillivray Castle? Ha! I wish.'
Her home, McGillivray Castle, was situated in the middle of The Forest. Her father, a historian, had chosen this specific place for a living because the whole building had to be able to travel through time without changing the place it was standing on and The Forest was the only place that had remained very much the same for thousands of years. Nowadays, it was the only place in the wizarding world, apart from Hogwarts, without a special safety barrier against random Muggle intrusion. Obviously, because neither of the two was a place any Muggle ever got to. Not usually, at least.
Then there were a few unregistered places in the North where Muggles sometimes accidentally entered The Forest and got eaten by all sorts of beasts (yes, Minerva thought angrily, The Forest is dangerous, Mr. Potter) but as soon as one of these accidents occurred, the Ministry found a way to magically close the specific entrance and the problem was solved for another few decades.
'Barrier, barrier, barrier,' said Minerva, checking a few tables while her quill was drawing in all the barriers to the Muggle world. King's Cross station, The Leaky Cauldron, The Ministry building itself, of course, and one or two stationary army points like Camden, the home and working place of Lance Snape. Not to mention Hogsmeade, the perhaps least properly secured barrier in the whole of the wizarding world, Minerva thought grimly.
A knock on the door made her look up and let the quill flop onto the table unceremoniously. Some of the tension inside her changed into downright anger at realising that it might well be one of her own students seeking guidance in one or the other 'important' matter. With a sigh, she flicked her wand at the door, which opened instantly. Outside, only barely illuminated by the torches on the walls, his silvery beard glittering slightly in the moonlight that was meeting him from inside Minerva's office, stood the headmaster of Hogwarts, looking more grave than she had ever seen him.
'Albus,' she said, unable to conceal her relief, 'I thought one of the students...'
'Just myself, I'm afraid,' replied the headmaster. 'May I come in?'
'Of course,' said Minerva quickly, stepping aside and drawing a chair for Albus to sit on. The headmaster, however, remained standing. He gazed at her desktop and his face lit, only barely.
'You have heard about the latest demand then?' he said, his voice shaking slightly. Minerva frowned.
'Demand? Not that I know of.'
The headmaster remained silent. Then, to Minerva's utmost surprise and shock, he suddenly buried his face in one hand while seeking the back of the chair she had drawn to steady himself against an upcoming fit of tears.
There was a short silence. Eventually, Minerva gently put one hand on the headmaster's shoulder. He seemed older than usual. More feeble. Then again, people always did when they were at the end of their strength.
'What happened?' she whispered after a while.
It took some time before the headmaster was able to speak again. He had lowered onto the chair after all, taken out a handkerchief, and started wiping his half-moon spectacles while staring at the desktop in a lethargic, absent manner.
'I have made a terrible mistake,' he said hoarsely. 'Minerva, I have made yet another wrong decision.'
Minerva closed her eyes. 'What happened?' she said again, her voice as quiet and reassuring as possible in this situation.
'We discussed the problem of Remus Lupin among the kidnapped children,' Albus said quietly, 'do you recall that?'
'Of course,' replied Minerva, almost insulted. 'Three days until full-moon. Have you made contact yet?'
'I have,' whispered the headmaster. 'Some time ago. I decided to tell the Knights that there was a werewolf among the hostages, but not exactly who it was. I hoped to cause a panic among them and for a mistake on their side. I also hoped they would not go and ask the students directly, because it is a well-known fact that most werewolves don't realise what their monthly state actually means. It seems, however, that we are dealing with far more dangerous an enemy as even I expected.'
There was a short silence. Minerva shifted, impatiently. 'What does this mean?'
'I have just spoken to one of them,' replied the headmaster hoarsely. 'The one you think you recognised.'
Minerva nodded. 'Rudolphus. Or his father. But a Lestrange in any case. They are easily discernible.'
The headmaster nodded absently. With effort he raised from his seat, not at all assuming his usual, upright posture, but that of a very old, very tired man.
'It was a mistake,' he whispered, holding onto Minerva's upper arm as he spoke. 'A terrible mistake. They found the boy - and killed him on spot.'
Minerva felt her jaw drop. 'WHAT?'
The headmaster looked at her through his half-moon spectacles, his weary gaze displaying nothing of its usual cheerfulness. With effort, he spoke again.
'It is what Lestrange just informed me of.' Another tear found its way down the headmaster's cheek. His voice was shaking as he spoke. 'And he informed me that they discovered the werewolf's identity with ease and took the liberty of removing him from the surface of the earth.'
Minerva needed a moment to let this information sink.
'How do you know it is true?' she eventually whispered. 'How do you know it isn't a bluff?'
'He knew who it was,' replied Albus weakly. 'He... was kind enough to describe Mr. Lupin to me and what exactly they did to him.' He shook his head slightly while struggling to maintain composure. 'I sacrificed the boy,' he said, shaking all over. 'For the sake of the other hostages, and yet - we cannot be sure to get them back safely either.'
There was another short silence. Minerva watched the headmaster. Everything inside her was screaming. This evening was not at all turning out the way it had started. Also, she realised that the news of Potter and his friends leaving the castle at this specific time might be too much to break to the headmaster at this specific point. Thus, after a short moment's consideration she said quietly, 'If you want to entrust me with this, Albus, I would like to inform Lance about the matter. He will have to know what he is dealing with. Because I daresay he underestimates the Knights the same way we did.'
The headmaster nodded, simply.
'I shall be away for a few days then,' said Minerva quietly. 'Transfiguration lessons will have to be put off again for a little while.'
'As long as they find our students,' replied the headmaster quietly, 'this won't matter. Because I really am at the end of my tether.'
'I noticed,' said Minerva quietly. 'But I'll find them-... Lance, I mean. And we'll... see what can be done.'
'Very well,' replied Albus softly. 'Meanwhile, I shall try and keep our remaining students as safe as possible. No more risks. No more controlled self-control for them. I'll block all the tunnels into Hogsmeade so no one else escapes. Imagine Mr. Potter and his friends going off to look for their friends, for example.' He attempted a smile, but failed.
So did Minerva.
'Yes,' she said quietly after a moment's internal struggle, 'imagine.'
'I hate you, Black! The next time you come up with one of these crackpot ideas you might as well tell us beforehand how much risk is involved.'
'If you don't shut up, there will be even more risk involved, Potter!'
'You are such an...'
'Will you shut up! Do you want them to find us?'
Sirius, James, and Peter were hiding behind a row of bushes, a little away from something that looked suspiciously like a campfire, with dozens of soldiers standing around it, seeming to have a good time out in The Forest instead of looking for kidnapped students, or even taking an interest in what was going on around them. James was glaring at them through one of the bushes, his hazel eyes narrowed, looking angrier than Peter had ever seen them.
'Just look at them,' he hissed. 'More like boy scouts having a good time out, aren't they?'
'You think they've lost their minds?' mumbled Peter. 'They're not at all behaving like soldiers.'
'Oh they are,' intervened Sirius. 'Believe me. I know my family.'
'That is your family out there?' marvelled James. 'How do you know?'
'The big one,' said Sirius. 'Don't you see him? That's my uncle Lance. And there is a few of my grandfather's cousins around, I think. Mostly Snapes, though. Rarely any Blacks.'
'Well, I do recognise the big one,' mumbled James. 'Though I think they look odd. All of them, don't you?'
'They must've changed the looks of the uniform again,' muttered Sirius, undecided. 'Or they're higher ranked than anyone I've ever met.'
'I can't see anything,' complained Peter. 'What are you two talking about?'
'Never you mind,' replied James, 'But you're right. They must have lost their mind.'
'I daresay,' a sharp voice behind them suddenly said while two heavy hands lowered on Sirius's and James's shoulder, 'that the only people with a lack of intelligence are you three. Hold it right there, Potter, or I'll have to stun you!'
Peter suppressed a little scream and Sirius snarled at the man (not a soldier, all three of them noticed) while James tried to escape his grip - in vain.
'Now,' said the man softly, his piercing black eyes seeming to take in every inch of their faces and clothes, 'what would three young Gryffindors, such as yourselves, be doing in The Forest at a time like this?'
James stared up into the man's gaunt face, finding that his nastiness was accompanied by an incredibly overlarge hooked nose and a nasty curtain of greasy, black hair.
'Let go!' he snarled, trying to put together fractions of recognition his brain was bringing up. 'Who do you think you are?'
'It shall be sufficient for me to know who you are,' replied the man. 'Hold your tongue, Potter. Black, if you try that again it will shorten your life considerably.'
'How come you know us?' said Sirius defiantly. 'Who are you?'
'Stop asking questions,' said the man curtly. 'You will follow me to the camp.'
'No way!' said James before he could stop himself, but a single look into the man's eyes told him that they did not have a choice. Where did he know those eyes from?
'Are you a Snape?' he said after a short while, following a stream of thoughts that had randomly appeared inside his brain.
'Indeed,' said the man curtly, while guiding them towards the soldiers quite unperturbed, but then fell silent. Eventually they reached something like an army tent in between two trees, which had been put up so carefully that it was hardly visible against the green of its surroundings.
The Snape halted in front of the entrance and paused, just for a second. Then, as though deciding on which words to use, he scratched his chin.
'General,' he eventually said in an official-sounding voice, obviously speaking to a person inside the tent, 'if you would care to step out for a moment...'
With horror, Sirius watched the giant shape of his uncle Lance shove through the entrance of the tent, but at the same time realised that as everything around here, his uncle had changed and looked very different from usual. He behaved differently, too.
'What's up?'
The Snape grabbed James's collar and shoved him forward. 'So much for my 'vivid imagination',' he remarked. 'I told you there were people around. Students, it seems.'
'I see,' said the general, now eyeing the three Gryffindors with interest. 'Who are you?'
'I can tell you that,' snapped the man. 'These are James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Merlin knows where Lupin is, but that is Gryffindor friendship for you.'
'I wasn't asking you, was I?' remarked the general calmly, smiling down at the man for a reason that totally escaped James. Then he looked back at the boys, addressing Sirius as he posed his next question. 'Well?'
'As he said,' growled Sirius. 'We are looking for a friend of ours who is in mortal danger at the moment.' He took a second to shoot a glare at the dark-eyed man, then looked up into the general's face again. 'As you might know. Because you are supposed to look for him - and the others.'
'No,' said the general calmly, a small smile playing around his lips. 'I don't.'
The Snape, on the other hand, suddenly stared at the three boys with a new quality in his eyes. 'You are looking for Lupin?'
'Yes,' said Sirius grumpily. 'How come you know us?'
'Did you travel through time?' said the general, now exceedingly interested.
'Rubbish!' said the other man. 'We are in their time. Isn't it obvious? Your grandfather really hasn't taught you anything, it seems.'
'Dad, I'm just asking!' snarled the general, leaving James at another loss. He was looking from the soldier to the smaller man and back, his mind racing. Then, very suddenly, and in combination with what the man had just said, realised what was going on. His eyes narrowed on spot and turned towards the black-eyed man who had brought them here, looking him up and down suspiciously.
'Severus Snape!' he spat.
The man's eyes narrowed on cue. 'Indeed!' he said again. 'Little, insolent brat. You ought to have learned how to speak with grown-ups by now. Who do you think you are?'
James side-glanced at the general, remembering what he had said and continued, marvelling, 'And you are... my uncle's grandson?'
To his enormous surprise the general gave him a broad grin.
'That's right,' he said cheerfully. 'And you must be the infamous father of...'
'Shut it, Licinius!' snarled Severus Snape's older self instantly. 'This time-travel nonsense has given us enough trouble already. I don't need you running around telling the future to those three. Especially to those three.' He glared at James again.
'Man, someone is holding a grudge here,' Sirius suddenly said, grinning at the two men. Snape smacked him, quite unceremoniously.
'Dad!' said the general uncomfortably, then sat down on one of the folding chairs next to the fire, seeming a bit overtaxed with the situation. 'Merlin, what are we going to do with three time-travellers at once?'
'As I said,' said Snape sharply, now approaching his son while moving and speaking as though trying to shut the three Gryffindors out of the conversation, 'they are not actually time-travellers. But we need to let them proceed.'
The general looked up with some surprise.
'Why?'
Snape hesitated. Sirius could see that what he was about to say was going against a basic instinct. 'Trust me on this,' he eventually mumbled into his son's ear. 'I know what happened.'
For a short while the general did not move nor speak. Then he raised from his chair, looking at the three Gryffindors again, his face very earnest for once. 'Very well,' he decided. 'I trust you, of course. But they need a mind-wipe.'
Snape nodded. 'Definitely.' He gazed at James, his face full of contempt. 'But before that, we'll point them to the exit to Mull.'
Author's Note: Once again, I thank everyone who is still reading and reviewing. I know that lots of people don't read fanfiction so shortly before the publishing of one of the original books.
Also, I know about and apologise for the massive amount of tiny little details I tend to put into this story. I know most of them seem meaningless, but I can promise you that most of them are not. The reason I am writing this note is that the bit about the grown Snape and his general son is just something I put in for the fun of it. For once, it does not have much to do with the original plot. I simply missed writing canon Snape. But there you go, this is where the concept of fanfiction becomes quite handy. :D
risi: Sorry, I should have made the point about joining up clearer. They were talking about Lucius, not Severus. People do not do the basic training before the age of fifteen, usually. I need to edit that chapter some time soon. Once again, I am entirely grateful for your very precise questions. They are exceedingly helpful for me when it comes to "de-complicating" the story.
PS: I know everyone is curious about Skein. It will take another while for Severus to discover who or what he is, though. He is not a ghost, I assure you, because ghosts, I think, can be seen by everyone at Hogwarts. If you are trying to find out who Skein is you need to take a close look at what he does for Severus. In what ways he serves or opposes him, and in what way his oppinion affects that of our favourite minute Potions Master.