Chapter 41

The Prodigal Son

The Quidditch pitch stood transformed, completely unrecognizable from its normal self – a twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the perimeter, a vast and eerie crisscrossing maze lay within. Grey mist floated from between the brush and bramble, unnatural sounds dancing alongside the haze. The grandstands were filled to the brim, full of excited voices and rumbling feet. The sun had just set and bright stars had taken its shining golden red place, twinkling against a deep blue sky.

The four Champions stood quietly in front of the roaring crowd, silhouetted by the unsettling maze; they were flanked by Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick. The faculty members wore large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest. Ludo Bagman stood off to the side, a thin sheen of sweat slicked his round, bulbous face.

"We'll be patrolling the outside of the maze," said Professor McGonagall to the champions. "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

McGonagall's instructions floated along the air to Severus Snape, who watched the scene unfold from within a copse of tall oaks standing next to the grandstands. As Bagman's voice thundered across the grounds, gleefully heralding the Champions, Snape left the shade of the trees and headed after McGonagall.

"Everything all set?"

"Yes Severus, I expect no surprises. Where will you be?"

Snape pointed to a slope up ahead. "I'll have a good vantage point from up there. Good luck."

McGonagall continued on, farther along the outside of the maze and Snape eventually settled up at the crest of the slope, just able to see over the tall hedgerows. He tried to peer into the maze from his vantage point, but a deep blackness had settled into the maze, masking its secrets from prying eyes.

The long seconds passed agonizingly into slow minutes as Snape stood sentinel on the hill, his eyes raking across the maze for any sign of life. The shouts and yells from the grandstands turned to mere whispers by the time they reached him, but the queer sounds from the maze were plain as day. Moody and Hagrid had succeeded if their aim had been to unsettle even the most courageous of the Champions.

A rustling from behind caught Snape unawares and he quickly turned, his wand easily sliding from his robes to his hand. Igor Karkaroff emerged from the darkness, his normally clean shaven and manicured appearance replaced by a disheveled and haunted look.

"What're you doing here? You should be in the grandstands with the other judges," hissed Snape, sheathing his wand and turning back to keep his vigil on the maze.

"Severus, please listen to reason, it's high time we left." Karkaroff kneeled beside Snape, a wild terror floating in his eyes.

"And go where?"

"New York, Capetown…to Mumbai! It matters not, just that we get as far away from Britain as possible! Look!" Karkaroff rolled up his left sleeve and shoved his forearm at Snape. A black snake lay coiled on his forearm…and it appeared to be slithering in a figure eight.

"My place is here Igor, beside Dumbledore and the students. There's a place for you as well, if you want it."

"What I want is to live a full life! He's back Severus and He will come calling soon enough!"

"There's no proof of that," scoffed Snape, his eyes still on the maze. A scream shattered the night air, yet no red sparks soared through the sky. Snape was on his feet in a flash, knocking Karkaroff on his backside. The Headmaster of Durmstrang grabbed at Snape's hem, as if in supplication.

"Please Severus; together, we can double our chances of survival…"

Snape ripped his robes away from the pathetic wretch squirming on the ground. "Get ahold of yourself Igor. If you'll not join us and stay here, under the protection of Dumbledore, then go. Run away and I shall make your excuses as I often did in the past. But I beg you to reconsider your selfishness, for alone you have no chance; united we stand, divided we fall…"

Snape's attention was drawn back to the maze, red sparks soared through the air with a loud crack. With one last piteous look at Karkaroff, Snape took off down the slope at a run. He did not break stride as he approached a tall thorny hedgerow, rather, he put his arms to his face and jumped into the green wall. The hedgerow parted like a sliding glass door, Snape was through and into the maze, landing adroitly on his feet, his senses alight and sharp.

Snape set off down a misty path and a few seconds later he heard the hedgerow behind him part again, the dull thud of lumbering feet landing on soft grass. Coward, Snape thought, as he headed deeper into the misty maze.

He passed magicked statues, golden quicksand pits and a large, rather fearsome looking vulture. He ran by a two headed unicorn, a ghoul and a vampire wrapped up in a long black cloak. But none of these creatures paid him any heed as the red and gold arm band on his left bicep glowed brightly as he passed each obstacle.

Snape dove into hedges with reckless abandon; the green brushes all parting before him like the Red Sea. Karkaroff was close on heels the entire time, a scared dog chasing after its master. A few twists and turns and Snape entered the center of the maze – a white plinth stood before him, shining and empty.

Snape searched but the Triwizard Cup was nowhere to be found. He could hear Karkaroff's labored breathing sounding behind him, scared and disturbed. Snape looked to the sky, but only saw twinkling stars set against a deep, dark blue sky. No golden fireworks, no shouts and screams from the grandstands – if the cup was gone and a Champion declared, where was the pageantry?

And then it happened…the world slowed down and everything moved in slow motion.

Karkaroff yelped in pain and collapsed to the ground, steam rising from his robes. Snape stared at him shock for a fleeting second and then a burning sensation swept through him, a tingling warmth that started in his left arm and spread throughout his body, growing into an angry heat.

He swayed unsteadily on his feet, feverish and sweat soaked. His mind began to pound with an ear splitting hammer – Snape let out a blood curling scream and dropped to his knees, cradling his head in his hands. A vision forced its way into his mind, pushing aside thoughts of Harry, the maze and the missing cup – a misty and dark graveyard, overgrown with crabgrass; a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree; a foreboding hill rose high and menacing; in the distance lay a fine old house.

Snape rolled around in a fitful ball, fighting an overwhelming urge to grasp the tattoo on his left forearm and apparate into the night. He finally got control and steadied himself to a rocky stop. He looked up and saw Karkaroff struggling to his feet. His dark brother looked at him with absolute terror and fled away, deep into the maze, as fast as his legs could carry him.

Snape tried to croak out words of warning, but nothing sounded from his lips except a queer sucking sounds. He watched his Karkaroff disappear into the misty maze with a look angry resignation. He was no true brother of mine.

Snape raised his wand to the heavens and cried out, "Auxilium Rubrum" – red sparks shot forth from his wand in earnest. But when the sparks reached the top of the hedges, they bounced harmlessly back to the ground, as if an invisible cover hovered above. Snape fired round after round of red sparks, but none of them were able to pierce the night sky and signal for help.

With a visceral growl, Snape pushed himself to his feet. The Mark still burned hot and the strange graveyard still danced wildly in his thoughts, but he was able to move again. He struggled toward a tall hedgerow and leapt into it – the cloying smell and taste of bramble and brush filled his mouth and nostrils, the hedgerow grabbed at him with its gnarly branches and prickly thorns. He pulled away from the green hands, spitting leaves from his mouth and picking at small thorns hanging from his robes.

Snape glanced at his arm; there was no red and gold band glowing where it had just moments ago. Magic disappeared if the original caster…Moody must be dead!

Snape took off down a dark path, slipping and sliding on the grass, following the sudden twists and turns as best he could. He blindly raced past a stone statue of a knight, lost in his fears, when a blow came crashing down on him and nearly cleaved his head in two.

The ground rushed up to meet him and Snape tasted the accustomed flavor of blood and dirt. He rolled onto his back and watched the stone knight drop its broken lance and unsheathe a broadsword strapped along its back.

"I'm a teacher of Hogwarts! The tournament's over! It's ended!"

Snape's panicked yells bounced along the maze and the stone knight paid no heed. It advanced on him, swinging the sword with such ferocity that King Arthur himself would have paled in fright.

"REDUCTO!"

A red light careened into the stone knight and struck it in the chest. The knight stumbled backward a step and stared down at where the spell had landed on its stone armor. A ripple flowed out from the knight's breastplate and a second later a thousand tiny stone pieces rained down onto Snape.

The potions master struggled onto his feet and proceeded to head further into the maze, his step much warier this time. He turned a corner and froze for half a heartbeat. Lily Potter stood in front of him, robes gashed and a deep crimson stream flowing from her golden ruby hair.

Snape waved his wand in irritation while muttering, "Riddikulus!"

There was a loud crack and Lily exploded into a harmless wisp of smoke. Snape followed the path around a sharp bend and an old, cloaked woman stood before him. She beckoned at him with a long pale finger and when Snape did not make a move to come hither, she smiled from deep within her cowl – bright red eyes and an unsettling, gummy smile.

"It dashes to and fro, here and there, can stand as tall as a man, or as short as a babe…yet has no legs. It can see in day and night, taste all the colors of the rainbow…yet its smile is certain death. It can –"

"Immobulus," screamed Snape and a bluish jet slammed into the old crone. She gave out a shriek and threw off her cloak, rising seven feet tall. Snape shrunk back in fear and disgust as the old woman's face sloughed off and in its place stood a sunken red skull with snapping vipers in place of hair.

Snape wondered what twisted magic conjured up this warped version of Medusa as he pivoted to the side and fired off a succession of spells, "Incarcerous! Incendio! Stupefy!"

Black robes shot forth and wrapped themselves around the Medusa. She laughed and tore them off in with one powerful shrug. A fiery red beam bounced harmlessly off the creature and another followed suit, slamming into the ground with an angry burst. The dark terror took a giant step forward and whipped her head – a viper flew forth at Snape, its fangs bared menacingly.

"Protego!" The viper slammed into an invisible shield in front of Snape and slid to the ground. Snape stepped on the serpent's head and gave his foot a sharp twist.

The potions master had a crazed look on his face as he screamed "Sectumsempra!" and charged the beast. Invisible lines etched themselves all over Medusa's body and seconds later the lines were filled in with a deep reddish hue. Blood erupted along the creature's body and red droplets whirled as she screamed, flinging viper after viper towards Snape. He ducked and rolled, dodging the flying snakes and creeping closer to the beast.

Medusa stumbled backward as the dark magic struck her repeatedly, the cuts digging deeper and deeper. With a final shriek she turned and scampered away, the few vipers remaining on her skull hissing in anger and pain. Snape stood panting in a shallow pool of tattered robe, congealed blood and shredded snake skin.

He looked about in frustration, which way was south, where is the castle?

Snape slashed his wand downward, a blast erupted at his feet and he floated to the top of hedge standing in front of him. He glimpsed the grandstands due north, but still far away. He gave a yell and dropped back to the ground; he took a step back from the hedge and raised both his arms towards the blue sky. Gripping his wand tight, he arched his arms down and bellowed, "Diabolus Spiritus!"

A searing hot flame of Devil erupted from his wand tip, singing the hedgerow in front of him and continuing on as if it were alive. The flame was not borne from a normal fire, it was cursed, the offspring of dark magic, feeding off the evil present in the maze. The devil's breath tore through the maze hedges like a hot knife through butter, sending thick black smoke swirling to the sky. The fiendfyre mutated as it swept through the maze and headed towards the grandstands; fiery serpents, chimaeras and dragons rose high, screamed loud and fell, rising again higher and hotter than before.

Snape ran along the jagged, blackened path the fire left behind, a road of ruin that led to the grandstands and Dumbledore. Up ahead the fire appeared to run out of steam, dying in a sudden wisp of smoke. Snape followed the black path until it petered out in front of one final hedge. He slashed his wand in front of him and the identical slashes appeared on the hedge until a small hole appeared. Snape pushed and squeezed his way through the leaves and emerged on the other side, red faced and reborn.

The scene that welcomed Snape as he walked out of maze was one of complete bedlam. A torrent of sound gushed forth, a cacophony of cries, yells and shrieks. Screams of "Cedric" and "Dead" sounded throughout the grandstands and the crowds of people milling about the mouth of the maze were in a flustered panic.

Snape spied Dumbledore and Minister Fudge arguing in the midst of a throng of people pushing and shoving each other, Hagrid's enormous frame trying to hold a swell of people back from a limp Cedric Diggory. Snape pushed forward, frantic, desperate to see if another lifeless form lay next to the fallen Hufflepuff prefect.

As he shoved both man and child aside, a voice sounded in his head.

"The boy…the child…"

Snape looked up in shock, through the clamoring crowd he saw Dumbledore staring at him with unblinking blue eyes. He struggled away from the crowd, his black eyes raking across the hysterical crowd and the raucous grandstands. He saw fear and panic and confusion, but no sign of Harry.

Disgust and contempt rose in his throat as he watched full grown wizards running away from the scene, leaving scared children in their wake. He watched one rather fat man in a purple robe shove aside two first years and take off across the lawn towards the castle. Snape's eyes flashed scarlet and he raised his wand, trying to point it between the ever moving crowds and at the fat man's back. Before he fired off an angry hex, he noticed two figures up ahead of the fleeing pig, a man half dragging a dazed child alongside him – a stooped man with worn robes, a man with tussled hair and a weathered face, a man who walked with an exaggerated limp.

Snape pushed aside the crying woman who had just wandered in front of him and sprinted after the odd looking pair. He scrunched up his eyes and repeated the same phrase in his mind over and over again – "He's with Moody…he's with Moody…he's with Moody…"

Severus Snape sat in his dungeon office, trying to control his angry breathing in the waning light, only a few weak torches flickered on the walls. Banding insults with Sirius Black always got his blood boiling and he needed his emotions calm and collected tonight. Dumbledore's words echoed in his head – "Severus, you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…if you are prepared…"

"I am," said Snape loudly to himself, his voice echoing in the dark.

He took several more deep breaths and then walked over to a large wooden desk, removing three small vials from a hidden drawer and downing the contents in several gulps. Green, purple and blue liquids slid down his throat, filling his belly with warmth, calming his frayed nerves and dulling the pounding in his chest.

He closed his eyes and felt the sands of his mind shift ever so slightly, the tectonic plates of his memories creak and scrap against each other. His jaw tensed as he rolled images across his eyes, a flickering twisted home movie played out in his mind.

When the movie ended he opened his eyes and took a long look around his office, one of the few places in the whole world that was he could call his own – he felt more attached to this room than he did to most people. A melancholy thought wormed itself into his mind – that he might never visit the castle again, might never see his office again…

Snape stole away from this office, swept through the hallways of Hogwarts and climbed up high, to the lonely Astronomy Tower. He walked out into the open terrace and stared out across the school grounds.

He reached within his robes and removed a picture of a young beautiful red-head; she was smiling and laughing and twirling around a decorated ballroom, a flowing green dress hugging her frame. Snape's black heart tugged at him for a brief second and he allowed himself to get lost in the past.

A cold wind washed over him and the moment passed. He scrunched up the picture and let it fall through his pale fingers. The picture fluttered in the wind and slowly danced away, receding from Snape's memory, to be forgotten.

Snape stared at his mark, but stayed his hand. I can't do it…I'm scared, no terrified…I don't want to die…

A melancholy shrill filled Snape's soul and a red flame swept down and perched on the railing before. Snape stared at the red ball of fire as it continued to sing, nourishing him, strengthening him, and steeling him for the coming inquisition.

Snape then grasped his left forearm with his right hand and the lonely graveyard came alive in his mind. He closed his eyes and spun on the spot.

Crack!

When Severus Snape opened his eyes the graveyard no longer swam in his mind, it lay before him, serene and quiet, the calm before the storm. The graveyard showed signs of a struggle, broken headstones and ripped up grass, yet the only sounds were the whispers of the wind.

A baleful moon cast the only light and Snape could not see much, a creeping mist had begun to rise from the ground, haunting the graveyard. Snape removed his cowl, and bared his face. He unsheathed his wand and drove it into the soft ground in front of him. He then knelt before his weapon, bowed his head, closed his eyes and waited.

He waited and waited, nervousness grew into anxiousness and soon became apprehension. He thought he heard soft crying, a nervous whine…a rustling, something large was slithering to and fro.

He heard soft footsteps and raspy breathing and when Snape opened his eyes he was not alone anymore. Pale, skeletal feet stood before him; bony and spider like. He could see the bones beneath the taut skin; long toenails, sharp and jagged, claw-like.

Snape began to shake, losing control of himself and his emotions. He was frozen in terror, his limbs turned to lead, he dared not raise his eyes.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.