Disclaimer: Look, honestly guys, I don't own anyone here. Thank you for thinking I could invent such cool characters if you for one millisecond thought that this could be the case, but no. JKR's and the Warner suits'.

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Chapter 27: Claustrophobia

The Golden Sickle shone in the pale light of the luminous mist. In this world it was the brightest thing; in this world it was the sun.

Harry couldn't help staring at it. Then sharp claws pawed at his ankle and reminded him he wasn't alone. "Oh… Severus. Well done! Here…" He bent down to pick up the Sickle. "Shall I change you back now? Bro–"

He didn't have time to finish the counter-spell.

It started with a fluttering of the leaves and the stars shook in their stations. Then the tree writhed. The entire world quaked, branches knocking and grinding against each other with brittle bangs and groans and squeaks. Harry had already grabbed the Sickle and wrapped it in Severus' bundle of clothes so that he didn't cut himself before realising that if Severus changed back now he'd be naked. Somehow Harry didn't think Severus was the sort of person who'd be satisfied with a strategically placed fig leaf.

"Oh. Sorry," he said to the indignant badger glowering up at him. "I'll just wrap it in my robes, shall -?"

Then the tree shifted again. And Harry's stomach lurched. It was like being at the top of a loop on his broom, ready to dive into the Wronski Feint, and savouring that feeling of temporary weightlessness…

But this wasn't the sort of weightlessness Harry could thrill to. It was one that threatened to throw him into thin air without a broom or any spells to soften the ground if he fell on it.

Gravity went sideways.

With his longer legs and his hand that grabbed one of the thinner branches that had been next to him and was now above, Harry managed to pull himself into temporary alliance with this new direction of up. But the badger, with short stubby legs, barked loudly as it began to slip. Its claws dug into the branch, scoring furrows in the smooth bark. The forelegs got some grip but the hindquarters swung out over empty air, their weight dragging the rest of the badger with them. Harry grabbed the badger by the scruff of the neck before it could fall: it was frightened and snapped at him, but stopped the bite before those long canines could touch Harry's skin. The badger looked up at him with fear and embarrassment mixed in its black button eyes.

"It's all right," said Harry, secretly unnerved by the vicious teeth. The badger licked its nose apologetically, which for once didn't look five sizes too big for the accompanying face. Tucking the badger under his arm with the roll of clothing and Sickle, Harry began to climb towards the ground as fast as he safely could.

It wasn't easy with one hand. Harry stuck to the thinner branches as they were easier to hang on to with his free hand, and he could occasionally sling a knee or elbow over one and – if need be – hang while gravity readjusted itself.

Helga's secret glasshouse was drunk and had a severe case of fleas with it. Harry gritted his teeth and hung on as the entire tree shook again. And again.

And again.

In the brief lulls he'd get another five meters down (or sideways or, for that nasty second when he'd nearly fallen back towards the sky, up) towards the ground before he had to wedge himself between two large boughs while the tree shuddered again and the frightened Severus-badger wriggled and barked hoarsely as the world turned upside-down. This close to the ground there were fewer thin branches, and Harry had to make do as best as he could and hope gravity didn't turn in a direction that was too awkward and would send him flying to his death, smashed against the ground or – more likely – against another of the massive branches that would be trunks on any self-respecting oak. He was having the most amazing luck, though – each time the tree shook, Harry was (as if by magic) next to a branch that curved in just the right way to catch him as he fell, or between two boughs big enough to provide a flat surface for him to land against rather than thin branches which might have snapped his arms and legs or punctured his ribs. Not that it made the badger any happier to be landed on, of course, but somehow gravity never shifted quite so much that Harry landed squarely on it.

So, lightly bruised and mildly scratched by the claws of a panicky (and slightly flattened) badger, Harry made it to the forest floor, falling the last few feet and landing with an "Oof!" from himself and a sharper "Wuf!" from the badger.

He dug his fingers into the loose humus and prayed that gravity wouldn't suddenly reverse and send him zooming back into the sky.

Gravity did reverse. And go sideways. And every angle between, but for some reason it didn't do much more than make Harry lighter. Now that he was on the ground, the gravity of the mysterious fig tree didn't affect him anywhere near so badly. Severus the badger struggled out from under Harry's arm and shook himself until his ears rattled against his skull. With another bark to get Harry's attention, the badger set off at a surprising speed through the leaves. Harry broke into a jog to keep up as the badger galloped under and around the larger roots and clambered over the smaller ones in its path, which Harry hurdled easily. There was a flurry of leaves flung into the air as the badger ploughed through one of the drifts. Harry, following right behind, spat out one of them.

"Want me to turn you back?" Harry called.

Bursting out of another pile of leaves like a small fuzzy rocket, the badger barked yet again, which Harry decided meant something like: "What, and stop to get dressed while this place goes crackers?"

Badgers could bark some very sensible things.

The badger stopped and hissed, sitting up on its hindquarters and trying to look around. Harry wasn't sure how far the badger could see: he'd already got the impression that its eyesight wasn't all that good. But he could guess what the badger wanted to find:

"It's over there." Harry pointed to the white handkerchief hanging from the stick Severus had thoughtfully planted when they arrived. The badger made that nickering noise again and galloped in the general direction. Harry was glad Severus was up to running in animal form; the badger was heavy and his arm was aching from taking the weight down to the ground. He –

Gravity shifted again, sending Harry sideways and into a branch: stars exploded from just above his left ear.

When his vision cleared he was on the ground with a very worried badger standing on his chest and nudging at his face with its nose. Harry lifted a hand to pet its head, confused for a moment into wondering if Helga had left a pet behind, but the nip to his fingers was sharp enough to bring him back to reality.

"Ouch. Sorry. I guess badgers don't like being patted."

The badger lumbered off Harry's chest with a snort. But it turned to make sure Harry stood up and followed. Satisfied, it bumbled off again at a quick trot.

With careful fingers, Harry felt the beginning of the lump on the side of his head, and told himself not to forget that gravity here had little to do with any outside conventions.

He reached the trapdoor on the heels of the badger, which immediately began trying to rip the door up with its powerful front claws. Harry had to give Severus credit: as a badger he had an awful lot of sheer muscle power. That heavy door was bumping up and down as the claws tugged at it.

"I've got it." The badger shuffled back as Harry lifted the door. The badger shot down through it and Harry could just make out the grey rump bobbing down from step to step. He slipped through after it and let the door drop down after him.

The darkness was absolute. Although the light from the mist in Helga's strange world had been mysterious and, Harry suspected, spookily semi-aware, now that he was back in pitch blackness he missed it. A few grains of dirt from the edges of the trapdoor settled in his hair and he brushed at them, realising that, along with the mundane darkness, gravity had returned to normal. For the first time in hours Harry was back to his normal weight, and the world didn't threaten to swing around him like he was a genie trapped in a bottle on the sea.

There was a grumbling growl in the darkness. It sounded a little bit like a monster, but more like an impatient badger.

"Lumos." Harry held his wand up. He looked down at the badger and grinned. "Hey, there. That whole Hufflepuff mascot look is really you."

The badger growled again, and sneezed as a thin stream of dust came down from a crack in the ceiling.

Harry looked up. That was strange. He didn't remember the ceiling having cracks before.

There was a groan.

Another crack zig-zagged out from one of the hinges, down the chimney the trapdoor was set into, then horizontally along the ceiling, splitting into a series of baby cracks that grew and grew and birthed more cracks…

The badger jumped up and down, barking, as a piece of stone fell and bounced off its nose.

Harry tightened his grip on the bundle of clothes and sickle under his arm. "This place is going to collapse," he muttered. "We need to get out of here, Severus – Severus?"

The badger's bark echoed back through the tunnel. Harry could just hear its claws clicking like a chorus of mini-castanets on the stone as the badger ran.

"Wait!"

Apart from another bark, he wasn't sure the badger had heard.

By the time the badger reached the bottom of the incline, Harry had caught up with it. Both of them puffing, they jogged along the tunnel.

Back behind them was the first crash as the ceiling began to fall in.

Somehow they found more speed.

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Harry was pretty sure badgers weren't designed as marathon runners, but neither was he, and both of them were doing pretty well at covering the distance back up the tunnel.

But then imminent death had always been a strong motivating factor for making Harry move faster, holding up the Lumos spell against the darkness. It looked like he had something in common with Severus beyond an interest in Muggle music and literature after all.

But even adrenaline has its limits, and after about ten or fifteen minutes the pair had to slow to a fast walk interspersed with the occasional jog. Harry's legs and lungs were burning, and there was an annoying tickle in his throat from the dust sneaking up from behind them. It always seemed to be right on their heels: every time Harry thought they'd run far enough from the danger zone there would be another ominous crash in the tunnel they'd just passed through and another plume of dust billowing out and making them cough. Harry wondered if the Golden Sickle was responsible for this, but as it wasn't like he was going to toss it over his shoulder to appease the tunnel it wasn't a theory he was going to test immediately.

It had been nearly twenty minutes now since the last collapse.

"Severus? How are you going?"

The badger had slowed to a walk and its head was lower than he thought a badger should carry it. Not that he knew much about badgers beyond the fact that they weren't little bears, but Harry knew an exhausted animal when he saw one.

"Would you like me to carry you for a bit?"

The badger shook its head and broke into a trot again, straining to run faster.

Harry wasn't sure why, then he felt what the badger must have: the first heavy shiver in the air.

He ran, scooping up the badger on the way. After climbing up and down the biggest tree he'd ever found, his shoulders were aching almost as badly as his legs, but he'd seen the way the badger was struggling.

The badger struggled now, but Harry hissed, "Don't argue! You're too tired to outrun this."

Harry nearly was, too.

The nearest piece of rock – a boulder the size of his body – thudded down right at his heels, snagging on the hem of his robe. Severus-the-badger would have been pulped under it. Harry whipped his robes free and found a burst of energy that could have been magic – or simple, human terror. Whatever it was, it sent him hurtling up the slow slope of the tunnel, into the endless darkness, which –

Ended.

Harry smacked into the wall with a winded gasp plus an outraged snarl from the badger.

"Sorry."

The badger wriggled free. Harry managed to crouch down as the badger dropped, trying not to make the drop too high for Severus.

Dust from the fall eddied around them and they sneezed. Harry felt the badger leaning against his shins, and reached down to pat the animal with the reassurance he wished someone could give him. Luckily this time the badger didn't nip him. It was trembling slightly.

Harry looked around and realised why it was trembling:

They were in a dead end. He'd thought the tunnel dog-legged or had another trapdoor or something, but no. The wall he'd run into looked like it was cut from the same stone as Hogwarts; it was slightly creamier than the darker stone which this part of the tunnel was carved through. Maybe it was the exit? Harry sent the ball of lit magic up above his head and tapped his wand to the stone hopefully. Nothing happened. He looked around, and then looked again, sure there must be another way. One he'd overlooked. Smooth rock surrounded them on every other side except for the one with dust silting through it. The dust caught in the dim light of Harry's wand and became brief blue motes as the light flickered.

Harry realised he was shaking, too.

The badger growled.

And Harry realised it wasn't only himself and the badger: the rock was shaking.

He raised his wand and threw up a physical shielding charm. It was one Hermione had taught him for rain. Harry put every bit of power he had into it and knew it wasn't going to be enough. And then the one finger that had managed to dig through the layers of Severus' clothing to the Golden Sickle tingled. The tingling grew and filled him and then he was glowing with the magic of the Golden Sickle and the spell against rain twitched somehow and –

And the roof fell in.

The world became nothing but one vast, crushing noise.

And then, with a few plips and plops of the last falling pebbles and groans of boulders getting used to their new places, it stopped.

And when Harry, who was crouching over the badger, came to the slow conclusion that he wasn't squashed flat, he looked up.

The spell had held. It had done better than hold, Harry realised, looking around himself gingerly: it had managed to deflect the rocks and dirt so that they fell against each other and formed a little, natural cave of a couple of meters diameter. The spell kept out the worst of the dust, too, to Harry's relief. A mist of motes hung in the pale light of the hovering Lumos. He had a nasty feeling from the little dust he'd breathed in on the run here that as much dust as had fallen here might have given him worse than a tickle in his throat.

That was nice. Shame about the slow, lingering death by dehydration or asphyxiation since he was trapped here and nobody knew where he was. Except for Severus, of course. And Severus was here with him.

The badger shook itself off and looked around, appearing just as astonished as Harry about not being a red smear beneath several tons of earth.

Harry sat down next to it and rested a hand on the broad striped forehead. The badger leaned into it, as if relieved not to be alone. Harry could relate. Although in a few hours he would rather it were the opposite, because if Harry absolutely had to die, the only person he wanted to take with him was Voldemort or maybe Wormtail. Funny. Once upon a time Snape would have been on that list. Maybe Snape would still have been, had he not died in the Death Eater attack.

But not Severus.

Harry had a horrible feeling he'd really mucked things up big time. Obviously Severus hadn't died. But what if Harry's coming back in time meant that he would? What would things have been like without Snape? In one sense, a lot better. Potions might have been bearable. But then again, maybe Harry wouldn't have lived to care one way or another: Quirrel's attack on him in that Quidditch match in first year might have killed him if it hadn't been for Snape quietly deflecting it until Hermione broke Quirrel's concentration… by setting Snape on fire, unfortunately. Well, desperate times, et cetera…

But what else had Snape done? Harry realised he just didn't know. Oh, he knew about Snape in the Order, of course. Snape had spied on Voldemort. But Harry just couldn't understand what that meant. Now, he had a nasty, sickening feeling that Snape's role might have been extremely useful in gathering all sorts of information on Voldemort, from his moods to his logic to his long-term goals and short-term strategies.

Had it helped?

Voldemort had Hogwarts blockaded. Harry was here to find a way to help break the Blockade by bringing down the barrier, after all. But what if Snape had delayed the Blockade? What if in another, Snape-less, universe Voldemort had already conquered Wizarding Britain?

The awful, sick chill in his stomach suggested this was a possibility and, if Harry's arrogance in coming here in the belief he was the only person capable of saving the world from Voldemort had killed Severus Snape, maybe it was a done deal now.

Harry's fingers tightened in the badger's fur. The badger growled.

"Sorry," Harry sighed, wishing he could say just how sorry he was. "Want to change back now?"

The badge shook its head.

Harry nodded. "I can understand. It must be better to be underground and a badger, than underground and a human." He sighed and looked around disconsolately. Now that the dust was settling, it was easier to see how thoroughly they had been buried.

Still, Harry had his wand. Maybe he could start lifting the rocks away. If he dug straight up, maybe that would do the trick.

But when he lifted his wand the badger hissed warningly. Again, it shook its head when Harry looked down at it.

"Have you a better idea?" Harry asked, lifting one eyebrow in disbelief.

The badger nodded and waddled over to sniff around the rough walls of fallen stone. It took its time about it, sniffing, testing the dirt with its claws and pausing to listen, and then it began to dig.

When Harry realised what Severus was up to, he grinned. Then he picked up his wand again and used it to draw out the dirt from the tunnel the badger was making.

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It took a long time – Harry had no idea how long – but inch by inch the tunnel grew. The badger's strong foreclaws and shoulders shifted the dirt between the fallen rocks like a mini-digging machine. It was somewhat like a niffler scenting gold, but without the frenzy. The badger went about its digging in a very serious way, pausing when the rocks creaked, and occasionally shooting out backwards in case the new tunnel collapsed, then cautiously padding back in to begin work again. Harry helped as best as he could by shifting the dirt the badger pushed behind it, but was careful not to pull out too much dirt: he didn't want to collapse this tunnel, especially while Severus was in it. That brief time thinking about how things might have been without Snape had given him even more of a shock than the tunnel collapsing on him.

The badger was small but the tunnel it excavated was somewhat bigger than its diameter. Harry realised Severus wasn't planning on going for help – he wanted Harry to come through the tunnel, too.

Harry wasn't sure about that. But when the badger made that nikka-nikka-nikka sound Harry guessed it was calling him. He gulped, and crawled into the tunnel with his lit wand held before him.

The badger was crouched by the paler stone – the wall Harry had run into. It had dug right up to it and tried to dig through the dirt underneath. It sniffed at the stone and scratched at it hopefully and turned to Harry again, its eyes shining faintly blue with the reflection of the wandlight.

"I don't think that even those claws of yours will get through that," Harry said.

The badger sighed. Then, looking as frustrated as Harry had ever seen Severus or Snape look, barked at the wall.

It sounded like a badger swear-word.

The wall shivered and lifted straight up before Harry's astonished eyes. He didn't have time to hesitate – growling and fuming, the badger grabbed the hem of his robes in its teeth and yanked Harry through.

There was the stomach-curdlingly familiar sound of rock groaning under tons of more rock right before the badger barked again and the stone door dropped closed. Harry, now lying on the smooth stone floor, felt it tremble as the small tunnel the badger had dug was crushed out of existence.

"Did you know the wall would open like that?" Harry whispered.

The badger shook its head, looking as astonished as Harry felt.

Harry sat up and looked around. They were safe inside this little room – a little room with thick stone walls buttressing the low ceiling, and although it was a narrow room, there was an even more narrow staircase leading out of it from the opposite side. It was an exit, and Harry felt in his bones that it was a Hogwarts exit. It was the feeling he always had when he stepped inside the castle, a feeling he'd just come home. Giddy with relief, Harry tucked an arm around the badger and gave it a quick hug. The badger didn't seem to mind – it purred as if it, too, was extremely happy to be inside something designed by someone who'd at least met someone who'd been to architecture school.

"Ready to be a Slytherin student again?" Harry asked.

The badger thought about it – or pretended to think about it. Its eyes gleamed as it shrugged, then nodded.

Harry smiled and spread the other boy's robes over the badger. He pointed his wand at the small mound which was moving its pointy nose under the black material, looking like Voldemort's smallest and most bewildered Death Eater. Harry was a little astonished at the image – he'd never thought he could find anything funny about Voldemort and his minions. But he couldn't help smiling, although he had the sense not to let the Severus-badger know Harry was laughing at it. He'd already seen that Severus could bite in either form.

"Brock reversed!"

Nothing. Only a feeling of intense exhaustion and the realisation that it was a long, long time since he'd last eaten.

The badger growled.

Harry tried again. And again. After the fifth attempt, he shook his head. "Sorry. I think I'm just too tired. Maybe you are, too."

The badger managed to find its way out from under the robes. It glared up at Harry. Harry might have been more impressed had he not been so tired, or had the glare not been vaguely aimed at his left ear, or had the badger not been wearing the robes like a nun's habit.

Harry had had more frightening glares from Simon. Or even Luna, come to that.

But he was too kind-hearted to let the badger know that.

"Come on. I'm pretty sure we're in Hogwarts. We can see if Dumbledore can fix it."

The badger crept back under the robes and growled.

"…Or we can go back to your room, get some food from the kitchen, and then try again when I've rested. How's that?"

The black and white nose poked out again and, after a small hesitation, was followed by the rest of the badger.

"Good." Harry picked up the robes, making sure Severus' wand was still tucked inside. Amazingly, the boots had stayed, too. Possibly Snape had charmed them not to get lost. Given that he didn't seem like someone who had a lot of money for buying new clothing, it was likely. Harry tucked the Golden Sickle inside his own robes. "There're some stairs. Feel up to them?"

The badger sighed, looking put-upon, but followed Harry up the narrow stairs.

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