Chapter 86 - Fury
Green eyes blinked open, and looked right into ebony ones. So far, so good. Harry could tell he had been sleeping in Severus' arms. Also good. As he stretched a bit to get his muscles ready to propel him from bed, Harry realized that he had been sleeping in Severus' arms and he wasn't wearing any clothing. Definitely not good.
The ebony eyes that were watching Harry recogized the instant that he experienced that discomfort. The unselfconscious posture was instantly replaced by one that screamed shyness and uncertainty. A very beautiful young man was suddenly wracked with fear that he was ugly and undesirable – how on earth could that be? It was uncomfortable to watch, and Severus was not going to ignore it.
"Harry, why did you tense up so? You were stretched out, so contented, and in a blink of an eye, you look like you want to hide. Did something happen?" he asked. Those green eyes looked down, lacking the confidence to meet Severus' eyes. "I don't know."
"You are without a doubt the most delectable young man I believe I have ever seen. You have the most perfect, creamy skin, and a beautifully muscled physique. Why are you trying to hide yourself? Why don't you want me to see you?" The doubt in those green eyes at that statement was heartbreaking. With a sigh, Severus pulled himself to a sitting position, leaning against the headboard, and he pulled Harry up to sit between his legs, resting against his chest. There were better, more passionate ways to start a day, but those would have to wait. Harry needed something else right now. He caressed the young man with a gentleness even Severus did not realize he possessed, stroking his arms, his back, his legs. It took several minutes, but finally Harry relaxed a bit and leaned into Severus' chest. Severus kept up his gentle stroking as he started speaking. "Harry, you were told by people who were totally blind that you were ugly, who were totally ignorant that you were not smart, who were perfectly awful that you were a freak. We've discussed this before. They are the ugly, stupid freaks! You cannot allow yourself to be defined by their limited views – you are far superior to that. I've told you before, and I'll keep telling you, that you are beautiful. You spent yesterday working with several of the smartest wizards on the planet on one of the most complicated spells ever devised by wizards, and you made major and substantial contributions to the spell created. You have power beyond imagining that you use with the utmost consideration for others."
A small smile crept into the corners of Harry's mouth as his listened to Severus' barrage of compliments. He could feel a blush starting as well. Severus kept up the stroking and caressing for a bit, finally reaching for Harry's chin and lifting his face up. "Do you understand how special you are?" The smile grew. Harry wasn't going to say anything, but his demeanor began to signal acceptance if not outright comfort in his own skin.
Severus stood and helped Harry out of the bed, guiding him into the bathroom for his morning routine while Severus gathered their clothes and began to dress. When Harry emerged, Severus used the bathroom, and they were both dressed for breakfast in surprisingly little time.
"So, do you have plans today, Severus?" a hesitant voice asked.
"I certainly do. This afternoon, I am going to be cooking a very special dinner, as I have a date with a very handsome young man and promised that I'd cook for him. The evening should be quite enjoyable." Harry was very pleased that Severus remembered, and even suggested that he was looking forward to, their date.
"I meant now. I was thinking I'd like to get those notebooks translated, as I imagine that Mr. Malfoy will want them back soon, and I also need to get started on the notes that Lord Aventine gave me to translate for you." Severus pondered that statement for a moment, and decided to volunteer, "I have some marking to do. I could join you in your offices, so you are not up there by yourself." Severus met the look of relief and pleasure on Harry's face with a smirk of his own, although inwardly, he was rejoicing at what he was sure was the first time that he had correctly "read" a dissembling Gryffindor. He was starting to get the hang of this – maybe he did not need the handbook as much as he'd thought!
Their plans were delayed when they found Albus, Minister Bones and Kingsley waiting for them in Harry's offices. The Minister had been informed the night before about the successful removal of the Dark Marks, and had arranged this meeting for the first thing in the morning. She understood that Harry and Albus were firmly of the opinion that this was an urgent, necessary step. As it was a purely magical matter, she felt it was Harry's decision, really, but she wanted to understand what they believed they were accomplishing, so she could better plan for whatever political steps she would need to take.
Harry explained that his biggest fear from the start was that Voldemort would react to learning that his carefully planned actions had been thwarted by simply recasting his spell. Harry was not confident of his ability to counter that spell on a world-wide basis again so soon after the first time. He was certain from the drain on their power that Voldemort had been able to cast such a powerful spell, and achieve the scope he had, by drawing on the power of many very powerful wizards, his Death Eaters. He was reasonably certain that Voldemort could not do anything like that again without being able to draw on their power. This meant that his retaliatory actions, which he was sure would happen, would be isolated, local attacks. Voldemort would not have access to the power needed to pull off what he'd done the first time.
Severus explained that without the Dark Mark, not only would Voldemort be reduced to one powerful wizard drawing on his own magical powers, he would not be able to even reach out to his Death Eaters and summon them en masse. He would have to reach out to each of them, one at a time, which would take time.
Madam Bones appreciated the value of cutting Voldemort's power supply like that, but one of the concerns expressed to her and her team at the Ministry by representatives of all the other magical governments had been about Voldemort's ability to summon demons. When he did that the first time, the Elder Demon appeared on all continents, so now no one felt safe. Severus inwardly sighed – he knew the answer to that, based in part on Miss Granger's prescience. When she explained that she'd found all those old demon-banishing spells, she had clearly researched old demon-summoning spells, prompting him to notice some mentions of those spells among some of the books he'd seen from the Malfoy Library. He responded "Demon-summoning is one of the darkest of the dark magics. It requires a wizard willing to irreparably taint his soul, but it does not require a wizard of particuarly strong magic. The magical strength of a wizard does impact the kind of demon that he can summon, though. I believe that Voldemort was able to summon that Elder Demon based on his use of power beyond just his own. If an individual wizard chose to summon a Demon, the one that would respond to the summons would not be anything at all like what we saw around the world and on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch a few days ago. There are any number of demon-banishing spells beyond the King's Banishment that Harry used on the Elder Demon, and they'd work on a lesser Demon. Mr. Potter's friend, Miss Granger, told me that she'd found others besides the King's Banishment in her research on ancient spells for Mr. Potter, so I suspect they are buried in history books that are already in libraries all over. We can ask her to share the results of her research, and we'll give you a precis that you can share with other nations. There are strong witches and wizards all over the world, and we are unlikely to see any Demons that they cannot handle."
Minister Bones looked quite taken aback that there was a student at Hogwarts researching demon-banishing spells, but Albus looked pleased as punch at the news. "A most remarkable young woman, your friend Miss Granger!" he said to Harry, who nodded with a smile. "In any case, Amelia, I would imagine that without the power of his Death Eaters, Voldemort will be acting more locally that he was before. His base of power, and most of his Death Eaters, are here in Britain. He does not have the extra magic he would need to travel great distances or wage battles in far flung locations."
Harry thought back on a comment Ron had made about the strategic benefits of disrupting an opponent's battle plan. "It is likely that Voldemort's original plans have been scuttled by what we've done. He is going to be acting out of frustration and not in furtherance of his carefully planned scheme." Albus added, "I suggest that you alert the magical world and tell them to be on guard. I suspect that you can find some information on demon-banishing spells at the Ministry, but if you can't, I will ask Miss Granger to share her notes."
Madam Bones looked thoughtfully at the group sitting in Harry's office/meeting room. Their casual talk of demon-banishing truly made her skin crawl, but as distressing as she found these things, this group seemed willing to confront them with careful, unemotional thought. It was not in her nature to trust blindly, but she was very comfortable accepting the help they were providing. "We'll resume Operation Safe Harbor today, then, although I will assign at least two Aurors to each team, to be safe."
X X X X X X X X X X
Voldemort awoke in his chamber slowly, pondering for the umpteenth time how tired he's been lately. Yesterday, that one trip, just a few hours, and he'd been exhausted. After meeting the Grim, he'd had to return to Riddle Manor for rest. Ah, well, he had ample time, nothing but time stretching before him. Better to be well-rested and able to fully appreciate the wonders of the world he was in the process of creating!
About mid-morning, Voldemort decided that it was time to gather at least some of his Death Eaters to him, to share the exploration of this new world he was creating. He stepped into his garden, and touched his wand to the Dark Mark on his arm, chanting the names of the Death Eaters he wanted to come to him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrance of the garden, and waited for the black streaks of his minions apparating to him in response to his summons. And he waited. And waited.
Anger and confusion warred to be his dominant reaction. Where were they? Why were they making him wait? He touched his arm again with his wand, and repeated the summons. Maybe there had been some problem; he really had not been himself since the casting, so perhaps the summons had not worked for some reason. Still no responses. Possible punishments for their disrespect ran through his head, as his scowl deepened the lines on his snake-like face.
With a chilling laugh, he shook his head. He truly was still not himself. Of course, his Death Eaters could not respond; he had not awakened them from the sleeping spell he cast!
He had not really considered this when he devised the spell to put everyone else in the world to sleep. His Death Eaters were scattered around the world, although most were wizards and witches he'd known for years and were from Britain and Europe. The prospect of having to go to each one at home did not appeal, so he thought of alternatives. He wondered to himself if he might be able to send out the pulse of magic that would awaken his chosen Death Eaters through the lines that ran to the sigil that the Elder Demon had marked for him. Voldemort took his position in his audience chamber, and directed a pulse of magic into the ley lines that converged there. He tried again to summon those Death Eaters. Again he waited and waited, but no one came.
Anger was no longer a significant factor in his emotions. Something was wrong here. He pondered the spell he just cast, and for good measure, went back and cast it again, to be sure it was done correctly. Again the summons did not work. On further reflection, now sure that the spell had been properly cast, he concluded that in all likelihood, this particular spell was one that did not work in this indirect way, and he would need to visit each of his Death Eaters personally to bestow the spell that would restore them to life. He decided that he liked the sound of that – the personal touch, the connection of his touch to their being able to live. But a nagging thought occurred to him. He HAD awoken one Death Eater, Graydon Goyle, personally all ready. He'd tried to awaken the three that had survived the casting of the spell, and one of the three responded, but the other two did not. He wondered why the one who was awakened had not responded to the summons, as he also wondered if all or most of his other Death Eaters were somehow in the same condition as the two who did not wake. It had not occurred to him, but maybe once they were sent to sleep like this, some wizards, even very strong ones, had some inner frailty that caused them to lose the ability to awaken. There were many things to consider.
He went straight to the guest room where Graydon had been taken, to find him having morning tea. Ignoring their Dark Lord's summons was something Death Eaters knew never to do, because the punishment extracted for such disrespect was an awful one, the Cruciatus curse. Someone who knew that he was about to receive such punishment was usually agitated and desperate to offer some excuse to avoid the punishment, but Graydon warmly greeted his host and invited him to have tea. He seemed totally unaware that he had been summoned and failed in his duty to come to his Lord immediately.
"Did you not hear me, my friend? Or maybe not feel the summons?"
Graydon looked totally confused, and more than a little fearful at that statement. "My Lord, I've been here all morning. The elves have done a wonderful job of supplying potions that have helped me recover, and when I awoke this morning, they brought me some breakfast and now some tea. I've not heard, nor have I felt anything. I assure you, my Lord, had I been aware that you wished to see me, I would have responded immediately!"
"Show me your arm!"
A confused Graydon pushed up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his left forearm, and to the mutual horror of himself and Voldemort, the Dark Mark was gone.
Graydon probably survived because of all the other things that had not gone as planned for Voldemort that morning. Normally when confronted with something as unexpected and distressing as this, he responded with a spell or action that most in the vicinity did not survive. Today, it was becoming clear that something had gone very wrong in the casting of the spell, resulting in a number of unanticipated consequences. Voldemort was agitated and upset, but now he was thinking about whether there were elements in the magic he had used that he did not consider. Did the sleeping spell somehow dissolve the Dark Mark? The magic he had used to affix those Marks was ancient and exceedingly powerful, but then again, so was that sleeping spell. It had never occurred to him that there might be any sort of reaction by the different magics; as he had done all this work himself, he had no minion on whom he could heap the blame and relieve his frustration with horrific punishments.
He stormed out of the room, leaving an upset but relieved Graydon to finish his tea that had now gone cold, and looked in on the two of his Death Eaters who had not awaked when he tried before. He recast the awakening spell at them again, for good measure, but nothing happened. To his growing horror, when he pushed up the left sleeve of each of the wizards, the Dark Mark was gone!
Something was clearly amiss. Voldemort was thinking as hard as he could. He needed to find out exactly what had not worked as he had planned, and determine why things had not worked as he expected, so that he could figure out what to do next, to salvage the situation.
He started by retracing the steps he'd taken the day before, and apparated to the muggle town outside Riddle Manor. There was still much death and destruction evident, which was a comfort to Voldemort, but now he took a closer look at the sleeping muggles. He would have expected that the muggles would be near to death from dehydration and exposure. They actually looked comfortable and rested, not at all dehydrated, let alone approaching death.
Voldemort's mind was reeling. Had he seriously miscalculated? Did the sleeping spell retain some element of the stasis component that he was so certain he had stripped from it?
Wondering now if sleeping wizards were faring as well as the sleeping muggles were under this spell, Voldemort apparated to one of the numerous small villages that dotted the easternmost unplottable counties, figuring that his research would go faster in the cluster of witches and wizards in the towns rather than in the manors and more private residences that were the rule in the tonier, more westerly counties like High Hill. To his absolute shock as he appeared at the fringe of one such town, the witches and wizards in that town were going about their business as if nothing had happened! Children were playing in the streets, the shops were open and doing a good trade. It seemed that the spell had never even reached them! Of course, from a distance, Voldemort could not see the few signs that something bad had happened here recently, to at least a few of the residents. There were some people wearing bandages or limping gingerly on recently-healed limbs, but by and large, it was a normal day in this town.
There was a playground nearby, and Voldemort decided to cast his sleeping spell directly at the children there, to see if it still worked at all. He was gratified that the children all fell where they stood, now sound asleep. He was also a bit surprised, based on what he'd seen elsewhere, that the sleeping children evidenced no stasis protections. How did stasis get into this? Where did that come from, if it wasn't part of his own spell?
He had seen the six wizards who had attended him at the casting all fall to sleep immediately, and had learned later that three died from the experience. So he knew that wizards were not immune to the spell, as he'd just proven again on the playground. Those were very powerful wizards, he knew, so this was not an issue of magical strength; in all likelihood, the wizards and witches who made these towns their homes were far weaker than any of his Death Eaters. Was it distance? Did the spell lose power as it travelled across the land, such that it was ineffective on those with magic even at this modest distance? Or was something else at work here?
The Crabbs, a family that included several of his Death Eaters, resided in the westernmost county of High Hill, which was farther distant from Riddle Manor than these towns. He apparated to their family compound, only to find it deserted. Of course, the children who were of age would be at Hogwarts, but he was sure that there were some younger children who would normally be at home. He did not know that the Death Eaters among the family had been at Malfoy Manor for treatment after the horrific drain on their power. In fear that somehow the Death Eaters in the family had displeased the Dark Lord, the other members of the family went to stay with various relatives once their husbands and brothers were in the care of mediwizards.
Not knowing what to make of the absence of people at the Crabb compound, he apparated to the Parkinson home, a short distance away. The patrician head of the family, Prescott Parkinson, had chosen to return home as soon as he had recovered from the drain on his magical power at Malfoy Manor, and in fact had returned the day before. He had been a loyal Death Eater from the very start, and was one of the first to take the Dark Mark. He and his family were confident that their loyalty to the Dark Lord could not possibly be questioned in any way. They might not understand why Prescott had become as drained as he had, and but they chose not to interpret this as an attack or something from which they should flee.
Voldemort was welcomed like the royalty he preferred to regard himself as being, which was comforting on one level but distressing in that every member of the Parkinson family was awake. Prescott shared news with him over lunch that proved to be even more distressing. First was the news that wizards had in fact all been sent to sleep but had then been wakened, almost immediately after the sleep hit them. Prescott himself was far too ill from the drain on his magic when that happened to know what others experienced, but did know from his family that they were awakened by a young man calling their names. A suspicion started to grow in the back of Voldemort's mind. Prescott then shared the story of the invitation to go to Malfoy Manor for treatment by a team of mediwizards that Lucius was assembling. Given Lucius' recent behavior, that was potentially troubling. While Lucius had never publically broken faith with Voldemort, he had heard rumors of the foiled attempt to marry his son Draco off to Sirius Black, and then there was his choice of opponents when he ran amok in the Ministry. The whole thing came more into focus when Prescott identified the bearer of the invitation as Kingsley Shacklebolt – there was no doubt that Malfoy had chosen to ally himself with the Light, likely with Potter. The picture was totally clear with the story that Prescott had heard at the Manor that Dumbledore and others from Hogwarts, such as Potter, were working on removing the Dark Marks from the Death Eaters' arms. He also began to suspect that Potter had something to do with the stasis that was preserving the sleeping muggles.
Back in his offices at Hogwarts, Harry had spent an uncomfortable morning after the meeting with the Minister, sensing the agitation and distress that Voldemort was experiencing. He'd discussed the sensations with Severus, and they reached the conclusion that Voldemort was in the process of realizing that something was not right, but probably not yet to the point that he actually understood what had occurred. This was all about to change.
Voldemort thanked Prescott and his family for their hospitality, and apparated off to Malfoy Manor. He was stopped by the new wards that Lucius had put in place, and infuriated that he was blocked from immediate entry. He set to shredding the wards.
Lucius had been presiding over the departures of his guests for most of the morning. Several had left the day before, and most of the others returned to their families after breakfast that morning. Those who remained in need of medical care were now free to go to St. Mungos, as their now-unmarked forearms did not identify them as Death Eaters any longer. One of the last still in the Manor was Eustace Landon. The boy was in no apparent hurry to return to his father, a reluctance that Lucius could understand. He knew the elder Landon through some business ventures and social engagements, and had always regarded him as a pompous ass. It had surprised Lucius that this young man was willing to take the Mark, as he was reasonably certain that his father would disinherit him in an instant if he knew. Eustace had sought out some time to speak to Lucius, who was flattered by the attention, so the two spent the morning with Lucius showing off the many delights and treasures of his Manor to Eustace, and they were just finishing the midday meal as Lucius felt a disturbance in the Manor wards.
It was mere seconds after Lucius felt the wards tearing that he heard Voldemort screaming for him, hurling threats and curses. The raging fury told him that the Dark Lord had figured out at least some of what had gone on, at least the part that had Lucius helping Potter gather the Death Eaters and remove their Marks. They needed to get out of here, or he and his guest almost assuredly faced an excruciatingly painful interrogation and death. There was only one place that might afford some protection against the raving madman who was just moments from gaining access to his home – Hogwarts. Lucius grabbed Eustace by the arm and bolted with him toward the Library, which fortunately was toward the back of the manor, away from the point of entry that Voldemort was about to use. It gave them a slight advantage, which Lucius hoped was going to be sufficient.
They reached the Library and heard Voldemort in the house. He had heard them running, and was himself now heading toward the rear of the house, where he knew from his visits in the past, there were several rooms. Voldemort passed the rear parlor first, and was able to confirm with a quick glance that it was unoccupied, so he hurried on. The Library was next, and given the presence of so many large bookcases, it was not possible to check it with a glance; Voldemort had to take the time to go into the room and through it to see if anyone was hiding in there. Lucius, praying for all he was worth that the floo connection between the Manor and Harry's offices at Hogwarts was still in place, grabbed a handful of floo power from the china bowl on the table next to the hearth in one hand, and pushing Eustace in ahead of him, threw it down and yelled Hogwarts, just as Voldemort approached them. The green flame was whisking them off, and Voldemort made a hasty decision to throw himself into the flame and attempt to be taken off with them.
Harry had been holding his head in some significant pain for several minutes now, and Severus had left his chair to stand next to Harry should he need any help. It was clear that Voldemort had finally worked out some significant part of what had been happening and was in a full rage, which was evident in the great distress in which Harry now found himself. Fortunately, Harry had been sitting in a chair on the side of the table nearest the fireplace, and Severus, who had been sitting on the other side of the table, had just come around to assist him.
When they heard screams coming from the fireplace as the green flames flared to life, Severus was already standing right there and able to grab Lucius and the young man whose arm he was holding, and pull them out of the flame as soon as they appeared. They were yelling to shut down the floo connection. Harry had his wand in his hand at the commotion from the floo, and immediately severed the floo connection to Malfoy Manor. Just before the connection broke, however, Voldemort's face appeared in the fading flames, and he had just enough time before being yanked back to Malfoy Manor to see both Severus and Harry. They did not need to see Voldemort's eyes turn red with rage, as Harry collapsed at that moment, in terrible pain, and with a small trickle of blood making its way fron his scar down his forehead.
Severus immediately turned his full attention to Harry. He was roused in mere seconds, as Severus helped him control the pain and occlude more completely. He was pale and shaken, but not harmed beyond the momentary distress he'd just experienced. Lucius had never seen anything like Harry's reaction to Voldemort's anger, and was a bit scared by the reality of it. For his part, Eustace was terrified of all that had just happened, from the moment his lunch was interrupted, to what he was seeing before him right now.
When it was clear that all were safe and at least on their way to being well, Lucius introduced Eustace to the others. Eustace was clearly thrilled to meet Severus. It turned out that Eustace was a passionate student of Potions, and his teacher had mentioned Severus Snape a number of times as one of the top Potions Masters in the world. He was overjoyed to be introduced to Harry, too. Severus noticed that Harry got a strange look in his eyes when he shook Eustace's hand. He mumbled something about the Landers family being on a very interesting path. Rather than make an issue of it, he made a mental note that he wanted to ask Harry about that later. Meanwhile, he began to make arrangements for Lucius and Eustace to take up residence at Hogwarts, as for now, Malfoy Manor was not available.