The Unbreakable Vow 22
by
Ash Darklighter
It all belongs to JK Rowling and I thank her for her inspiration – There are no galleons to be made from me. This little story is my first Harry Potter fic. It is AU and of course comments are welcome. My thanks to Tad and Mona for their help.
Present Time
The early winter sun shone coldly down on Harry's head as he locked his car. He gave his concealed wand holster a pat and pulled his jacket on. It was colder outside than it looked. He could have attempted a warming charm but he was reluctant to use magic for such trivial means yet. He was a wizard and it was time that he and Ginny returned home but he wouldn't risk his family for anything. If there was any doubt, they would remain in the Muggle world.
Covered by his invisibility cloak, Harry skirted around the trees to where Ginny had said that the coloured lights had come from. Through the densely packed forestry he could see the exact place where the other car had come to grief against the trunk of a silver birch tree. Little pieces of glass and plastic still littered the ground even though the damaged car had already been removed.
The Muggle police had clearly been more efficient than Harry had thought they would be and must have taken away the damaged vehicle early in the morning. Perhaps they'd even investigated the site late last night after Ginny had informed them of the incident. The road wasn't a busy one but it was used during the day, especially by farming traffic, and the police would have wanted it cleared as soon as possible. And they hadn't wasted any time – anything that might have given Harry a clue to the origins of the coloured lights had gone.
That is, if wizards were responsible for the accident and he was certain that, inadvertently, they were. How could you explain the inexplicable to a Muggle? The answer was that he could not. They would think that he was completely in need of psychiatric help. In Harry's opinion, viewing the scenes from Ginny's memory in the Pensieve would still give the police little to go on. Not that such a thing would ever happen.
The rational, non-magical explanation was that someone had set fireworks off as a prank. Fireworks left evidence if you knew where to look. Harry had lit fireworks for Jamie on Bonfire Night last year. Jamie would enjoy things even more this time around. He'd already bought sparklers for his son to hold even though he suspected that Ginny would veto such an idea. Jamie was perhaps still too young to be truly involved but Harry could still hold the sparklers for him.
Harry now needed to do his job, the one he'd begun unofficially training for before he'd left the magical world. It had been no secret that he had wanted to become an Auror and catch dark wizards. Voldemort's curse had, only temporarily in Harry's mind, delayed his eventual training. He still wanted to become an Auror and had continued to study as much as he could without magic in exile.
He did sometimes think that wizards relied too much on magic to solve their problems and sometimes you could discover almost as much by working the Muggle way – by using your eyes and mind. He and Ginny had become addicted to some of the detective programmes on the television. The wizarding world had nothing like it. Forensic Magic was a very new branch of study and hadn't yet become popular in the Auror training academies.
The police had already investigated this area, which made his sleuthing more difficult. But in a strange way, they'd helped him too. Some of the trees had been marked as evidence. Little chalk crosses adorning several knotted trunks showed the possible path that the perpetrators of this crime had supposedly taken. And it was a crime. An innocent man had almost died.
And more importantly, Ginny could have been severely hurt. His heart thudded into his throat and he swallowed feeling sick. She and Jamie could have been killed. The world they'd left five years before had insinuated itself back into their lives with ill grace.
Harry took a deep breath and began glancing around him assessing the damage done. Branches had been snapped off certain trees showing the path taken and the ground underfoot had been well trampled at one point. Several individuals had flattened an entire area of vegetation behind a large tree The destruction of the forest was minimal and yet, Harry still saw it as exactly that - destruction. With a quick glance at his wristwatch, noting that it was after eleven, he turned to go. It was later than he thought and he'd spent more than enough time tramping fruitlessly around the forest. His shoulders slumped in disappointment. There was nothing left for him to find. These wizards had known what they were doing. All he'd needed would have been one little clue – one tiny mistake.
Suddenly, something caught his eye and he peered down at his feet. Harry scowled. It was just a torn sweet wrapper… He stiffened, his hand reaching to pick up the small piece of evidence. The police had missed this, or not considered it important enough. They were probably right. He was about to discard the scrap of paper when something familiar about the lettering caught his eye.
Honeyd…
Harry's eyes widened. Could it be Honeydukes? It looked like a torn strip of paper from a Honeydukes chocolate wrapper. He tried to recall the last time he'd eaten the wizard confectionary. Poppy had given him a bar for emergencies but he hadn't kept it long. The colours were the same and if that was the case, then this was almost certainly a Honeydukes chocolate bar and not a Muggle sweet. It confirmed what he already suspected – wizards had walked in these woods. It still wasn't enough. Harry wanted to know who they were and why they'd been here.
Crack!
The sound of a twig snapping close to his position echoed through the wood and Harry froze. He wasn't alone – there was someone here? Suddenly a bird flew up into the air with an indignant squawk and the young man relaxed, emitting a small chuckle. This whole situation had got him and Ginny more nervous than Scabbers, the rat, when Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, was around and on the prowl.
He and Ginny had intentionally heard very little about the wizarding world for five years. Their contact with their former friends had been limited to Poppy Pomfrey on just two occasions. The first was when they contacted the mediwitch early in Ginny's pregnancy and the second, on the night that Jamie had been born. Obviously Poppy knew about Jamie but she didn't know where the little family had been hiding. They hadn't told and she hadn't asked. There was no way that anyone could have discovered their location. He and Ginny had used almost no magic at all in their entire time in exile – nothing to draw magical creatures or Ministry tracking wizards towards them. This reappearance of magic in their lives had to have been a coincidence but that didn't make it any more reassuring.
The Pensieve had shown that spells had been cast but not by whom. There was no way of identifying the culprits or speculating on the reasons why they had been in this part of Scotland in the first place. The location of Harry's home had been selected for the reason that it wasn't too close to any noted areas of wizarding interest.
Ginny hadn't seen anyone hiding by the roadside. But then, anyone driving a car tended to have their eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead and not on what was coming at them from out of the trees.
If there had been any remaining clues, the Muggle police had probably removed or inadvertently obliterated them all. Harry decided that he might as well return home. Ginny hadn't been feeling well this morning and he wasn't surprised. She'd woken up several times through the night, her sleep restless and uneasy. He had held her close as she'd shivered and cried. Perhaps he'd take her into town to see the doctor. It was possible that she was suffering from delayed shock. She'd been very calm about it all last night – too calm - but he had been prepared for a reaction. It was inevitable. This was the first time in five years that their safety had been threatened by the magical world.
She would recover quickly with his and Jamie's love and support and the security of her home and family around her. He knew his brave witch disliked feeling helpless. He'd phoned into work himself earlier on, explained the situation and taken the day off to be with his wife. The town they worked in and lived close to was small enough for the accident to be big news in the local paper. His boss had understood and had actually given him the week off if he needed it. He would take a couple of days. Ginny was strong and would not appreciate him smothering her with his concern.
Ducking under the low hanging branch of a lop-sided Scots Pine, Harry made his way back to where he'd left the car. It was unlikely that he would discover anything more but he scanned the area again just to make sure. No, there was nothing more to find and it was long past the time for him to return home and check on his wife and son. He could see the faint gleam of the car windscreen in the mid-morning sunshine and hurrying, stepped over a fallen tree trunk. Unexpectedly, his foot connected with something soft that, when he looked down, just wasn't there and his long-dormant scar gave a throb of pain.
"What!" he exclaimed quietly, lifting up his foot and was disconcerted to hear a faint groan. In his estimation, logs were inanimate objects and did not emit sound – even in the wizarding world.
Making sure he was completely covered by his invisibility cloak, Harry reached down and found that he was clutching at something solid, yet soft. Carefully, he moved his hand and caught the edge of a lighter fabric, one which was very similar to the cloth draped over his own head. There was someone lying in front of him draped in an invisibility cloak of their own. That someone had probably been stunned or knocked unconscious and was now awakening painfully, if the groans were anything to go by. Underneath was someone clad in a thick woollen fabric, the kind normally used in the manufacture of wizarding cloaks.
He felt once again for his wand holster. He hadn't used his wand for over five years but there was a time for being careful with his magic and he reckoned that this wasn't it. His family's safety had been threatened and he had to deal with the problem. He had to believe that he had thrown off the effects of Voldemort's curse and was able to take his place in the world of magic once more. To believe anything else would be foolish.
Drawing on the familiar feeling that he'd once taken for granted, Harry prepared to defend himself if necessary. He could feel the returning magic crackling around him now and he finally realised why the lights and other electrics in the house were beginning to play up. They'd worked quite well with only one magical being around but now that there were two of them in the house – and, unknown to him, Harry's power was maturing all the quicker for the hiatus he'd endured – the magic was interfering with the electricity. A smile crept on to his face. There were three magical beings in his household, not two. Jamie's temper tantrum levitations were not the actions of a Squib.
His fingers nervously touched the edge of his wand and suddenly he felt the warmth that he'd experienced the very first time he'd held it in Ollivander's. He grabbed the wand and exhaled with relief as the wand emitted a shower of red and gold sparks granting him permission to proceed. He had his magic back. He knew it. It was back and as strong as it had been before Voldemort fired that curse.
There was another faint groan.
Harry squared his shoulders. This wasn't the time to be enjoying the return of his magic, not when there was a probable enemy lying at his feet - possibly with a wand. Any witch or wizard could be dangerous when cornered.
He slipped his wand from its holster, clutching it with sweating fingers and with his other hand, pulled away the invisibility cloak covering the prone figure of a man dressed in black wizarding robes.
It was official. He had a stunned but awakening wizard at his feet. One of Harry's worst nightmares, apart from the usual Voldemort-sent visions, was the one where his carefully constructed life as an ordinary Muggle with his family began to unravel once more. He could not leave him here. If he was a Death Eater, he needed to be in Ministry custody. If he was one of Dumbledore's men then he couldn't be allowed to see Harry's face but would need treatment as quickly as possible.
He took an involuntary step away from the figure until he realised that the unknown wizard had stopped making any noise and still wasn't moving. Harry could see a deep gash of the side of the man's pale, bruised face and limp, dark hair was matted with dried blood. Reluctantly, Harry bent forward over the prone figure, his wand almost at the man's chin, and gingerly lifted a lock of midnight-black hair away from the pallid face.
"Oh!" he exclaimed in a shocked whisper as he jerked away from the fallen wizard. "Merlin's…" He snapped his mouth shut. It was a man Harry recognised – the hooked nose couldn't belong to anyone else. Someone he hadn't seen for five years and the last person Harry would have expected to see lying unconscious in a Scottish wood not far from his and Ginny's safe haven. It was Severus Snape, his former Potions professor and spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He wasn't moving.
"Shit!" he muttered, his heart suddenly thudding loudly inside his chest. "Shit, shit, shit!" He hadn't expected this at all. Had Snape been looking for him? Had their location been discovered? Had Snape been working for Voldemort or Dumbledore on this occasion?
Carefully Harry rolled Snape over to try and assess the extent of his injuries. The bank where he worked had sent him to a first aid course a while back so Harry knew some rudimentary Muggle healing. But this man wasn't a Muggle. He may have had a Muggle father but no one could deny that Snape was the complete wizard even if he was unpleasant. Snape had been lying out in the open, probably since the previous evening. Covering him with the invisibility cloak was a sure indicator that whoever had attacked him hadn't intended for Severus Snape to be found. "Well, I guess that puts paid to the idea that he was looking for me." There would either be a queue of Voldemort's little friends with him or half of the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry felt for the man's pulse. It was faint but it was there. He was still breathing. If Snape had been taking part in a Death Eater's meeting, something had gone very wrong. Harry needed to get him to Poppy at Hogwarts immediately. He ran quickly back to the car and collected the meagre first aid kit and began carefully to clean the blood on Snape's forehead. As he began to check the Professor for any other serious injury, Harry saw something that made his blood grow cold. Snape's left forearm which had once contained the Dark Mark was slashed ruthlessly from wrist to elbow. Luckily whoever had done it had missed any important arteries or Snape would have bled to death before anyone had found him. They'd been intent on causing the maximum amount of pain with the least effort.
So Snape had finally been found out as a spy. Why else would they have tried to destroy his mark and leave him for dead? It was the only conclusion Harry could logically come to and if that was the case…
Harry's hand went to his own forearm where Pettigrew had taken his blood forcibly to aid in the first resurrection of Voldemort. He swallowed, feeling sick. Snape's injuries looked horribly familiar. He willed away his nausea and suddenly, the faint ache around the area of his scar burst with a short searing pain.
"Dark…Lord," Snape murmured, his eyelashes flickering.
Yes, Harry thought darkly. Voldemort was corporeal once again but that could wait - Snape's condition could not.
"Professor…your arm…what happened?" he asked. "Professor…?" But Snape had lapsed back into unconsciousness and wasn't in any condition to answer him. "So the Dark Lord's finally back," Harry muttered, calling up his long dormant Occlumency shields and the pain receded once more. "Voldemort's back and I'm assuming that he now knows for certain that Snape's on Dumbledore's side. Ginny, Jamie and I… we're not safe any more." There was also the realistic chance that Voldemort could track Harry through his scar.
Weighing up all the possibilities, Harry decided to portkey the professor to Hogwarts and hoped that his magic was up to the task. He may not have been able to perform any spells for over five years but he'd taken a leaf out of Hermione's book and had read diligently. He wasn't going to be caught unawares. Not when he'd a family to protect and a future to live for. The only other option was to drive into town and take Snape to the local hospital. He could see problems with that idea from the start. How do you explain to a doctor in casualty that you just found this man in the woods and if he tries to hex you, just ignore him?
No, he had to get Snape to Hogwarts.
"Portus," he murmured, tapping a fifty pence piece in his pocket. The seven-sided coin glowed. Harry waited for the dizziness and the inevitable headache that had always happened before he left the wizarding world. His head felt fine – he felt fine. He had his magic back.
Harry wasn't so cocksure as to think his recovery was complete but this was more than he'd hoped for. Poppy had reluctantly uttered terms like "ten years or more but at least he would eventually recover his power." She'd saved him and he owed her a debt that he could only repay by finishing off Voldemort for good. If the prophecy was indeed true then Poppy Pomfrey could have saved the entire wizarding world by saving Harry's magic.
"Yes," he hissed exultantly. "Hogwarts," he said clearly, tapping the fifty pence piece with his wand, before pressing the coin between Snape's fingers. The Potions Professor vanished.
Harry checked the time on his watch once again and decided that he needed to get back to his wife and son immediately before she did something rash and called out the police. The nice anonymous 'Peters' family didn't want or need such notoriety. He didn't think that the local constabulary would be best pleased when a civilian was found to be wandering around a crime scene looking for clues so that he could take matters into his own hands.
But then the local constabulary were not prepared to battle dark wizards.
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The Dark Lord hadn't cared how long the traitorous spy, Severus Snape, took to die. Only that he did and in as much pain as was possible. Five years had passed as he'd lain weak and helpless. He'd been left to possess lesser beings in order to survive for five years while the traitor, Snape and the insignificant, obsequious Pettigrew, had the information at their fingertips. He'd survived before but it had not been part of his plans for a second time.
"Get this worthless, snivelling fool out of my sight," the Dark Lord had commanded, after he had commemorated his return to solid form by subjecting Snape to several bouts of the Cruciatus Curse. There had been no one else available for him to truly vent his spleen on. Unfortunately Peter Pettigrew had been killed during the Hogsmeade fight that had temporarily cost Voldemort his body. No one had been truly sorry to see Pettigrew's demise, even his colleagues currently in the service of the Dark Lord, hadn't spared any regrets for the rat animagus.
If Bellatrix hadn't found a tattered and yellowing piece of parchment in the Malfoy library, containing the method and guidelines to completing the ritual on one of her mad rampages through her sister's house, he could still have been without form. It had taken the sharp eye and keen mind of Lucius Malfoy for them to realise what they had found.
For his part in his Master's recovery, Lucius Malfoy had again managed to wriggle out of the usual 'torture into madness' punishment and had had left for London on Ministry business, leaving the rest of the available faithful to finish the game. Voldemort had not trusted him with the secret of his immortality and the flaxen-haired wizard knew it. Malfoy was a clever, scheming wizard but he was not one to trust. The Family Malfoy looked out for themselves first.
To give Snape an unrealistic but sporting chance, the remaining Death Eaters had placed anti-apparition wards around an area of forest decided by Bellatrix Lestrange spitting on a map of the British Isles. The area where the globule of spit landed was the preferred location for the last minutes of Snape's life. By the time they had port-keyed Snape to the location the Dark Lord's attention had been on other things.
Snape had been too weak to run far and they had taunted him by throwing stunners and stinging hexes after him. Eventually, the traitorous Hogwarts' Potions Professor been caught with a cutting curse and had gone down heavily. They would have left him there to rot but he had in his possession a rather fine invisibility cloak. Such articles were rare and valuable and Snape, being more intelligent than most, had somehow anchored the cloak to his person. Once he was dead, it could be removed. In the meantime, they'd covered him with the invisibility cloak. They couldn't remove it more than a foot from his body owing to a charm Snape had placed upon it. So they'd thrown it over him to prevent his body being discovered and would return for it later.
The chasing pack of wizards had marked the way they'd travelled through the forest by placing small chalk crosses on the trees with their wands.
"What about his wand?" Amycus Carrow asked his companion, as they apparated back to the location the following day.
"Break it," sneered Perronus Mulciber. "He's dead by now and won't be needing it. I can't see anyone else being able to use Snape's wand."
"You would be surprised but I suspect that you're right on this one," said the squat wizard in a superior fashion. "Wands are tricky customers. And as old Ollivander told us when we went to get our first wands, it's the 'wand that chooses the wizard.'" He batted away a swarm of small insects. "Merlin preserve me from Scottish wildlife. Shouldn't these insects be hibernating at this time of the year?"
"Where exactly did we leave the traitor?" asked Mulciber, standing knee deep in a clump of dark green ferns, a frown on his narrow face.
"I think it was behind the next tree. I had consumed rather a lot of Malfoy's best firewhisky. He's not normally so free with the stuff." He checked his bearings and gave a sharp nod and pointed. "If you step over that fallen trunk, he should be stashed behind it." Carrow was checking the barks of the trees they passed for the chalk markings.
"Okay, I think I see it," mumbled Mulciber. "Snape did our Master one final service."
"Yeah." Carrow gave an evil chuckle. "He didn't die in vain. His blood returned our Lord to life."
"He knew all along what to do. Our Master wasted five years in the wilderness until the correct means for his return were procured. Snape, the bastard, knew all along and didn't tell us." Mulciber wanted to give the body another kick. It wouldn't kill Snape any more than he was already dead but it would make him feel better. None of the Dark Lord's inner circle had been totally convinced of Snape's loyalty. He'd passed information to Dumbledore at their Master's behest but Mulciber, and indeed the Dark Lord himself, had always been suspicious of Snape's closeness to the headmaster of Hogwarts.
"Let's get the cloak, check he's really dead and get out of here," Carrow ordered.
"Fine!" snapped Mulciber. He stepped across the fallen trunk, bent down and then froze, his wand flailing about in mid air. "You are not going to believe this."
Carrow exhaled in exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, he's not there. Cut the crap. We've not got the time to fool around."
The expression on Mulciber's face had turned from superciliousness to panic as he stamped around the area as if trying to step on something large behind the fallen tree trunk. "That's just it. He isn't there."
"What!" Carrow rushed towards the spot where they'd left Snape.
Mulciber pointed to the spot, the expression on his face one of sheer terror. Something had been lying there until recently. "He's gone! We are either dead or insane in St Mungos"
Carrow gulped audibly. "What do you mean gone?"
"The body's not there," Mulciber answered, visibly trembling.
"The Dark Lord will kill us," Carrow almost shrieked. "He'll use all of the unforgiveables and then feed us to that damned snake."
Mulciber's eyes glittered febrilely as he fumbled for an explanation that would satisfy the Dark Lord. "Not if we don't tell him. Not if we say that we found the body and we buried it."
"He'll want proof," Carrow insisted, dropping to his knees and reaching through the undergrowth to see if Snape had possibly crawled away. "Only Snape's wand or his invisibility cloak will be sufficient. Saying that he's dead isn't enough."
Mulciber twirled a thin piece of wood between his fingers. "We have his wand, you dolt."
Carrow shrugged. "Yes, we do, but if Severus turns up in Diagon Alley asking old Ollivander for a new wand, then we'll be found out. What happens if our Lord finds out that we lied to him?"
"Snape's dead," Mulciber declared. "Deader than Merlin. There's no way he could even move by the time we were finished with him. We just lost the tree we left him under. We can come back another day and have another look."
"Bit of a shock for the Muggle that eventually finds him if we don't," sniggered Carrow, suddenly finding the situation amusing.
"Whatever happens, Snape is ineffective. He can hardly spy against us for the bearded old fool in Hogwarts now." Mulciber wiped all traces of amusement from his face. "We've been here long enough. I have an appointment with Lucius at the Ministry. We need to get away from here now."
"I still think we should have another look for Severus," Carrow muttered. "I could try a 'point me' spell."
Mulciber scowled but nodded. "Do it," he growled.
"Point me, Severus Snape," Carrow declared. The wand barely twitched.
"I told you, he's dead," snapped Mulciber. "And if he's not, he'd better get that way very quickly." With a faint pop, he apparated away.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk drumming his long fingers against the polished wood. He had to admit to himself that he was worried. Two days ago Severus Snape had been called to a meeting by Lucius Malfoy. There was nothing peculiar about that occurrence. Those supposedly loyal to Voldemort and not in Azkaban met on a semi-regular basis. They disguised it by calling it a gathering of friends or an evening to celebrate some anniversary or other. Severus would depart in his dress robes and return hours later, scowling with suppressed anger at some real or imagined slight, but mercifully free from the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse.
This time was different. Severus had not returned to the castle after a couple of hours like he usually did. Two days later, he was still unaccounted for. Either, it had been one hell of a Halloween party or his Potions Professor was in trouble.
"Albus?"
"Yes, Minerva."
"No word?"
The headmaster shook his head wearily. "Nothing. I don't like it. He's never been gone this long before without telling us. Not since…not since…."
The witch sniffed. "No, not since You-know-who was last in corporeal form."
If he hadn't been so concerned about Severus, he would have smiled. Minerva had a way of expressing her opinions that was unique. "And you think…"
The head of Gryffindor house sighed. "I don't know what I really think but I suspect 'He's' back and we'll be hearing about it very soon."
"I agree. It's been five years, Minerva, since Harry dispatched him once again. We expected Voldemort to return long before this. His followers should have known how to perform the ritual that would bring him back to his full powers once more."
Minerva McGonagall winced at the mention of Voldemort's name. "They don't have Harry," she said.
Dumbledore glanced at one of the silent silver instruments on his desk. "We don't know that."
"They can't have him," she said, her severe face showing her distress. She had been fond of Harry and hadn't always agreed with how Albus had dealt with his situation. "We would have heard something." Minerva didn't add that their golden boy, their one chance at defeating Voldemort, could quite easily be dead. She didn't have to.
Dumbledore sighed, suddenly looking old and frail. "Harry…" He contemplated a blank piece of parchment on his desk. "I agree. It's one of the things that still keeps me sane. He's out there somewhere. I just wish…"
"You made a mistake, Albus," Minerva said. "You tried to keep things from him – too much. Trust has to be earned and you lost his."
"I know. But I wanted to give him a childhood."
"And you sent him to Petunia!" Minerva shook her head. "He never got that childhood with his Aunt. He was unaware of his fame which we agreed would be a good thing but he received no love and little care. And you wanted to send him back there without his magic." The headmaster had reluctantly told his Deputy Head about the curse Voldemort had thrown at Harry.
Dumbledore closed his eyes as if to block out the pain. "I wanted to keep him safe."
"He's an adult, Albus, and has the right to make his own decisions. As for Severus," she began. "You've not dealt with him the way that you should have either."
Severus Snape was a difficult man to like but Minerva respected him even if she disagreed with the way he often treated the pupils not in Slytherin House. He was a colleague and a fellow member of the Order and had probably risked his life in the cause against Voldemort more than any of them but she couldn't call him a friend. "Severus will return, Albus. He always has before." Minerva tried to reassure him.
"I know he has but something's wrong this time - I can feel it - and then of course…it's Halloween." Dumbledore lifted his head and gazed at Minerva. He didn't have to say anything else.
The Transfiguration teacher closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't set much store in Divination for true seers were rare. Still, not for nothing was Dumbledore considered to be the greatest wizard of his age. "Halloween," she whispered. "Oh, Albus. Halloween has special connotations for all, not just as an important celebration but as the anniversary of his first defeat. Voldemort and his followers would find such a date for his return poetic."
Albus nodded and opened his mouth to say something when a strange chime sounded in the office. "It's the wards," he muttered getting to his feet. He glanced at one of the gizmos sitting on his desk. "A portkey has deposited someone just outside the wards."
Minerva had already opened the office door. "I'll send Filch."
"No, I would rather you go, Minerva. Just in case that it is Severus. I would not want Argus to be put in the position of having to be Obliviated."
Minerva nodded and disappeared down the stairs. The cantankerous Squib caretaker could not be trusted with such information.
Albus moved to the fireplace and called, "Poppy?"
Poppy Pomfrey heard the summons and hastened to answer it. "Yes, Albus?"
The headmaster looked worried. "I think that Severus has returned from his 'meeting' and I suspect that he may be in need of treatment."
Poppy's mouth dropped open in horror. She'd treated the Potions Professor and other members of the Order of the Phoenix through both of the previous conflicts. "It's starting again?"
There was no twinkle in the famous blue eyes. "I suspect that it is. I could be wrong but I doubt it. I'm surprised our respite has lasted this long. But there have been strange tales of evil rising once more in dark places. It's the only explanation."
Poppy nodded, her face tight with worry. "I'll make ready one of the private rooms." It was still term time and there were often children in the infirmary.
Albus discerned a bright flare of light behind the mediwitch and noted that Poppy glanced nervously behind her. "What's happening?"
"That was Minerva's Patronus," she answered tersely. "You were right. Professor Snape's unconscious body was found just outside the school gates. She's conjured a stretcher and is transporting him to the castle."
"I'm on my way," Dumbledore assured her.
"Hurry," she ordered.
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Severus Snape groaned as pain worse than any Cruciatus curse encompassed his entire body. He'd thought that he was dead for sure. If he was dead then he shouldn't hurt this much. Severus reluctantly came to the conclusion that he was still alive and if he was still alive then... No, it had to be another nightmare.
"Severus," the voice murmured quietly. It was gentle…familiar.
Severus tried to open his eyes but it was too much work. "I…"
"Albus, I said to leave him alone for now," Poppy declared tartly in full nurse mode. "I've poured too many potions down his throat. I'm not surprised that he's feeling a little groggy."
"No…" The Potions Professor stopped. He was at Hogwarts?
A firm hand pulled at his chin and tipped a glass to his lips. "Drink, Severus. This is a Dreamless Sleep Potion."
He was at Hogwarts. Thank Merlin! His tongue felt swollen inside his mouth and the pain… It was indescribable. He groaned again, feeling sick.
Poppy placed a soft damp cloth against Snape's forehead. "This has been soaked in a potion of your own making, Severus," she said quietly. "It contains a mixture of a calming solution and a post-Cruciatus antidote. I cannot give you any more pain-killing potions for another few hours."
"Better," he managed to say, attempting to open his eyes.
"Now relax and sleep. You are safe," the witch said soothingly. "That's it," she encouraged as heavy eyelids began to droop over the dark eyes. "Good."
Severus Snape finally gave in and let the potions do what they'd been created for.
"Is he asleep?" Minerva McGonagall stepped forward to stand beside Albus. She'd been watching from the sidelines, content to let Poppy do her work.
"Yes. He didn't want to relax at all."
"That's Severus for you," Minerva said regretfully. "I don't think I've ever seen him truly relax. He was like that as a child - as stiff and unbending as they come."
"I remember," Poppy said, remembering a pale, thin boy peering at the world from behind his overlong, limp, black hair. A boy, who at the age of eleven, had arrived at Hogwarts knowing far too many dark curses than was proper.
"When will he be able to talk?" Dumbledore asked.
"Maybe tomorrow or the day after that, if you don't overtax him," Poppy said reluctantly. "If I had my way, none of you would be able to ask him anything for at least a week but I know that I'm wishing on Leprechaun gold for that to happen. Albus, he's lucky to be alive."
Dumbledore pressed his lips together and nodded. "Call me when he awakens."
"Of course," Poppy answered. But it would be two days before the Potions Professor awoke again.
xxxxxxx
The next time that Severus Snape opened his eyes, it was on a bright, cold November morning in his bed in the Hogwarts infirmary. He was still alive but there wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt. He muttered a curse beneath his carefully indrawn breath. There was strapping around his ribs and his left forearm was swathed in white bandages. By all of Merlin's withered dangly bits – he was in pain.
"Severus!" Poppy Pomfrey bustled up to his side. "Finally!"
"Leave…me…alone," he gritted between his teeth. If there was one thing that Snape hated, it was to be fussed over.
"Now, Severus," the woman said briskly. "If you would just open your mouth and swallow these potions then you'll feel a lot better." She placed a vial to his pale lips. "Come now, swallow."
"I…should…be…dead…" He said, once he had done as she requested.
"You're alive and at Hogwarts. I've given you another Dreamless Sleep potion. Your body needs more time to heal."
"Want to remember. Tell Albus…"
"You need to rest," she instructed firmly. Severus had never dealt well with sympathy. But she'd known him since he was a child. Firmness and the occasional threat worked wonders.
Snape closed his eyes with something approaching relief. He wasn't ready to relive what had happened to him. He wasn't even sure that he could remember enough to do so. But he should have been dead. They had wanted him dead and had left him alone to die. He'd even accepted his fate, although the dreaming of James Potter, his hated childhood enemy, guiding him towards the afterlife was rather unfair.
Mulciber and Carrow had done their level best to end his existence and had dumped him, wrapped in an invisibility cloak, Merlin knows where. Somehow he'd managed to return to Hogwarts and safety.
At first, he couldn't remember anything and then a memory of shivering on a dank forest floor, with the blurred figure of a young bespectacled man showing him to his inevitable death. He managed a soft snort of cynical amusement and then regretted his action as his whole body just ached.
Here at the beginning, or was it the end? James Potter had been about to point him the way forward and it would have been so easy just to follow him.
Potter's shade had leaned towards him and given a gasp of horror. "Professor…your arm. What happened?" There was a moment and then the young man had produced his wand whispered. "Portus" and pressed something between his fingers. He'd also mumbled something else but his ears hadn't managed to process what was said.
"Dark Lord…back," he murmured sleepily. Poppy's potions were beginning to take effect. But he could still remember the bright gleam of Potter's green eyes as he'd incanted the spell.
'Green eyes!'
He struggled to swim back to the surface of consciousness but the enchantments laced into the medicines were too strong. James Potter didn't have green eyes. James Potter would never have called him 'Professor'. "Albus…"
"Ssh…It will keep."
"I must…tell…Al…" Snape lost the fight and slept.
Poppy gazed at her patient with worry. She'd heard his words. 'Dark Lord…back.' And she was quite aware of what had been removed from his left forearm. She moved to her office to Floo the headmaster. He would want to know that Severus had awakened. He might not be pleased that she'd immediately dosed him with a sleeping draught once again but Albus and his 'greater good' philosophy could wait a few more hours. Her patient's health came first.
When the Potions Professor opened his eyes again several hours later, it was to find the headmaster dozing in a chair by his bedside.
"Albus…" he managed to say in a voice husky from too much screaming.
The headmaster's eyes snapped open. "My dear boy," he beamed. "We thought you were never going to wake up again."
"I…thought that too," he admitted. He swallowed. "Water…"
"Of course." Dumbledore brought a glass to Snape's lips. "Just sip it," Albus instructed. "Carefully now."
"Thank you." Severus let his head fall back against his pillow. "I thought I was dying," his whispered painfully. "I was dying and then who should I see but James Potter. Why could it not have been…?"
"Lily?" asked the headmaster. "I don't know. Who can predict what we see in the halfway point between life and death."
Snape eased his heavily bandaged arm from beneath the bedclothes. "My arm…"
"As you no doubt remember, someone tried to remove your dark mark by non-magical means and nearly succeeded in removing you from this world altogether. You lost a lot of blood." He got up from the chair. "Poppy is going to bring you a nutrient potion and then you must rest. I'm glad that you're back with us even if I know what your injuries mean to our world."
The two wizards shared a look. Snape would not be spying for the Order of the Phoenix against Voldemort in this coming conflict.
Dumbledore smoothed his long white beard with his aged hands. "We still need your expertise in many areas, Severus. No one has the depth of knowledge of Voldemort and his followers' methods like you do. We also need your potion brewing skills. There will be other ways in which you can aid our cause."
"I'm tired of resting," Snape said peevishly, his brow furrowed in a scowl. "I have potions to prepare and classes to teach."
"Not yet," the headmaster admonished gently. "Madam Pomfrey wants to keep you under observation for a little while longer."
"Meddlesome old witch," Snape griped. "Albus…"
"It will keep. Poppy will have my head for her burn paste if I keep you talking any longer."
Snape reached out and grabbed the edge of the Headmaster's trailing sleeve. "This is important," he gritted between clenched teeth.
"Tom Riddle's return will keep for a day or two longer." Dumbledore smoothed his long white beard and took a step towards the infirmary door.
"No, Albus, wait!" Severus rasped. "This won't keep and is far more important than you realise. This is not about the Dark Lord."
The aged wizard frowned. What could be more important than the second resurrection of Voldemort? He stared at the pale-faced wizard in the bed and sat back down again. "Go ahead."
"James Potter did not have green eyes," Snape said faintly.
"No, his eyes were brown," Dumbledore said, wondering where Severus was going with this train of thought.
"The Potter that I thought was about to guide me to the afterlife had green eyes."
Albus Dumbledore could still be surprised but this piece of news was more than surprising – it was astonishing. His first thought was that Harry was dead and the wizarding world was doomed. His heart thumped and his hands began trembling until another thought struck him and he glanced at the fifty pence piece that Poppy had taken from Severus when he'd arrived back at Hogwarts. The coin had been the portkey used. The coin was from the Muggle world. He felt the edges beneath his fingers. It was real and could not have been used by a phantom. "Harry," he breathed, hope suddenly lifting a shadow from his careworn face. "You think that somehow, Harry helped you return – our Harry?"
"It's a possibility." Snape looked as if he'd just swallowed one of his own worst potions.
Dumbledore's face paled. "Then he's with…"
"No, I do not think that he is. I have not seen him before this at any of the gatherings and he was not with the others. He seemed…" Severus paused. "I do not know where I was found. I went to Malfoy Manor as is usual for these events. I recall a Muggle graveyard…"
"Little Hangleton," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort's father is buried there."
Snape nodded slowly. "Now that I'm feeling better I recall that Potter seemed shocked to find me."
The old wizard smiled with a certain amount of relief. It could have been much worse. Severus could have died and yet, Harry Potter had answered a call for help without realising that he needed to. Destiny was clearly not going to be denied. "Fate?"
"Perhaps." Snape closed his eyes as a wave of pain swept through him. But on reflection, he thought that it wasn't as bad as it had been. He was recovering from his injuries but even he knew that it was going to take time.
Poppy, registering that the voices in the private room were conversing, came hurrying from her office. "I did not realise you were awake, Severus." She turned to the headmaster and scolded, "You should have called me and told me that he was awake. He has more potions to take and then he must rest."
"Merlin's sake, woman!" Snape hissed with a little of his old asperity. "You've been pouring the stuff down my throat and forcing me to rest since I got here. You could leave me alone for five minutes. This is something that the headmaster has to hear." He managed to dredge up one of his glares. "And only the headmaster."
"Well!" the mediwitch huffed. "Five minutes only," she stated, a determined look in her eyes. "I know that you can feel every bone in your body ache, Severus Snape."
Snape looked at her in disbelief. He didn't think that Poppy had any talent as a Legilimens.
The mediwitch gave her patient a superior smile. "And no, I didn't read your mind. I didn't need to. I've been the mediwitch in this school since before you were born, Severus Snape." She twitched his bedclothes into place and swept away towards her office without another word. Albus Dumbledore may be the headmaster of the greatest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world but this was her infirmary.
XXXXXXXXXXX
"Ginny!" Harry leapt out of the car and ran into the house. "Ginny!" He moved swiftly into the kitchen only to find it empty. "Ginny!" Where was she?
"What!" Ginny came down the stairs, Jamie balanced on her hip, her expression anxious. "You found something," she stated.
Harry gave a sharp nod. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Dad!" shouted Jamie, his face lighting up with glee at the sight of his father, his pudgy little hands stretched out towards him. "Dad."
"I'm fine," she answered. She studied Harry's closed expression. He'd found more than he'd obviously expected. "What's wrong? Don't say 'nothing'. I wouldn't believe you, if you did."
"I wouldn't insult your intelligence," Harry said, his gaze scanning her face and figure. She still looked a little pale but he could see that her eyes were bright and clear. He let his wand slide into his hand and gave a little shrug. "It's starting again."
"You're sure," Ginny asked, her eyes flicking to the wand. She understood what he didn't need to say. The walk in the woods had backed up the evidence from the Pensieve.
"Yes." Harry gave a defeated sigh and moved the wand back into his arm holster. "You know that this means that we have to start taking magical precautions. I'd hoped that we might have a little longer but it's not going to happen – is it? We need to start warding this house immediately. I'm going to contact the Goblins immediately. I want to put this house under the Fidelius charm."
"What about the Order?" Jamie began to wriggle in his mother's arms and she placed him on the ground, where he toddled away to find his toys.
"What about them?" Harry's expression was mutinous. As far as he was concerned the Order of the Phoenix hadn't helped them at all. "I don't think they're aware of anything yet but they're going to be trying to find us pretty soon."
Ginny frowned. "I don't understand."
Harry rubbed his hand across his mouth before saying quietly, "I found Snape."
"Professor Snape!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean you 'found' Snape?"
"I almost stood on him," Harry said, looking somewhat embarrassed. "He was left for dead in the woods."
"You …" Ginny's hand went to her forehead. "Left…dead… Snape, so close to us," she whispered. "Why?"
"Death Eaters, I presume" he murmured. "He was in a bad way, Ginny. He'd been beaten and probably held under the Cruciatus curse and they'd tried to remove the dark mark from his arm. I think it's highly probable that he won't be working for Voldemort in the future."
Ginny's brown eyes widened in horror. "I need to sit down," she said faintly, feeling nauseous.
Harry put his arm around her and guided her into the family room. "I'll put the kettle on," he said, checking to see where Jamie was. But the little boy was happily playing with some blocks, building them up and knocking them down.
"Dad," Jamie said and beamed up at his father. "Dad."
"Trouble," returned Harry, with a grin, gently ruffling the child's messy black hair with his hand. The smile faded as he turned to look at his wife. Jamie was almost the same age that he had been when his parents had been killed. It was imperative that he begin to ward the property.
He finished making a pot of tea and poured it into mugs. "I think we have a few days before they start actively looking for us."
"Why do you think that?"
"Snape wasn't in any condition to talk. I'm not sure if he was even aware of me. He was unconscious for most of the time. He did say something, though," Harry offered thoughtfully, his green eyes steadily holding Ginny's. "Just two words. 'Dark Lord'."
Ginny's soft mouth trembled. "So why do you think they'll start looking for us."
"More likely to be me," Harry said carefully. He had to tell her. "There is no proof that we're even together. They may suspect it to be the case but they don't know for sure. If Voldemort's back…"
"You-know-who is back!" Ginny interrupted. "What do you mean 'he's back'? Snape just said 'Dark Lord'. That doesn't mean that V…Voldemort has returned. How…how do you know?"
Harry sighed wearily and tapped his scar. "I felt something," he admitted quietly. "That, and Snape's injuries are reminiscent of mine when Voldemort became corporeal after the Tri-wizard tournament. Someone performed the ritual to give him back his body. You remember the one, Bone of the father…"
Ginny swore. "Then we need to rejoin the real world – our world. We need all the protection magic can bring us."
"I agree." Harry took a deep breath. She wasn't going to like this and probably wouldn't agree to it but it was worth a try. "I will return but not you."
Ginny stiffened. "Oh, no, Harry Potter. You married me for better or worse, remember?"
"How could I ever forget? It was one of the best days of my life," he said with a beaming smile. "I'd do it again, too. You really are something special, Ginny-love."
"That doesn't get you out of it, Potter," she snapped, her temper crackling. "If you go back, so do I."
"Ginny," Harry murmured in an awed voice as he watched her trying to control her ire. "Your hair…"
"What about my hair?" she muttered. "Stop trying to change the subject, Potter." But she got to her feet and walked to the mirror. "Oh!" She lifted her hands and ran her fingers through her soft curls. Somehow, in a bout of accidental magic, her hair had returned to its glorious Weasley red.
"It's beautiful. Why did we decide to disguise it?" he asked softly.
"It's Weasley red," Ginny replied.
"Ah, but you're a Potter now." He lifted his hand to gently caress a soft shining lock.
"The word you used was 'Potter'. I'm your wife and if you return, I'm going with you. I don't trust you not to mess things up on your own." She smirked at him. "I'm the brains of this operation, remember?"
Harry chuckled. "How could I forget?"
"Harry…there's something else. I think… I think…" Ginny's hair returned to its dyed dark brown colour as her mood changed.
"What, Ginny-love?"
Ginny lifted her hand and the tin of biscuits on the counter zoomed towards her. "I think I'm pregnant, Harry."
"You are!" His face lit up in the smile she didn't see nearly enough of. "Wonderful!" He opened his arms and she moved towards him. "You and two babies! Oh, Ginny, I love you so much." He bent his head and kissed her warmly, the magic shimmering between them. "We really are a family."
"Enough of that," she murmured, blushing slightly. "That's what got me into this condition in the first place."
"Ginny," he said, his face now serious. "That makes a lot of difference. "I have to go and do this on my own. I'm not risking you and…"
"I'm pregnant, not incapacitated," she said stiffly.
Harry beamed at her. He loved this witch. Malfoy, the puny ferret, would never have been able to handle her. "Merlin, I love you and whoever else you have cooking in there."
"Orion," she said. "It's another boy."
"And you decided that…when?"
"Just now," she answered cheekily.
"Seriously Gin…" Harry began.
She sighed. He was right but she wasn't letting him go alone. "I know. We need to be safe. We have to protect Jamie. I would do the same as your mother did and give my life for my children."
Harry's mouth quirked into a lop-sided smile. "I would do the same. I never understood why my parents sacrificed themselves for me. Now that I have a son of my own, I understand perfectly. It's so straightforward, isn't it?"
Ginny nodded. "Yes," she said simply. "It is. We want the best for them even at the expense of our own lives."
Harry let go of Ginny. "I'll contact the goblins immediately."
She gave a decisive nod. "If you do that then I'll start work on the Fidelius. We have too much to lose, Harry, and I'm not prepared to squander what we've worked so hard for."
Harry's gaze was resolute. "I can agree with that."
"How long will it take you to get to London?"
"I'm not going to London," Harry retorted.
"But Gringotts and the Goblins…"
Harry grinned. "I'm Muggle-raised."
Ginny couldn't see where he was going with this. The goblins were in Gringotts and that was in London. "And…"
"I have a phone."
Ginny's eyebrows rose. Her husband never ceased to amaze her. "You're going to telephone the goblins?"
"Yes."
"Telephone them?"
"Yes," he repeated.
"Oh." Ginny looked a little nonplussed. She'd lived as a Muggle for five years but sometimes the obvious just escaped her."
"They have an emergency phone line. I've just never felt the need to use it before."
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