The Leader

Chapter 5

Conversations

Severus Snape - One Week Ago - Flashback - Hospital Wing Hogwarts.

Severus moaned in agony as another cascade of pain unlike any he'd ever known washed over him. Merlin, if he was going to die he wanted it to be quick, since it was most certainly not painless. He'd had no warning either; he couldn't believe he'd been caught as a spy, such an idiot. How could he have not known Pettigrew was following him? The second he'd Apparated in he'd been disarmed and everything removed from his person. Thankfully they didn't think to check under his cloak, where he kept the emergency Portkey he kept on his person at all times. All thoughts cut off as the pain became too much and his mind drifted off, keeping him sane…stopping him from feeling the agony coursing through him. Blackness, and Severus welcomed it, wondering if his suffering would continue for much longer.

Time was meaningless, hours or days, maybe even weeks could have passed and he wouldn't know. What he did know, was when he woke, the pain had dulled to an annoying throb which he could tolerate. The taste of potions was thick on his tongue; he must have been given it recently. That didn't surprise him, since the pain was all but gone; it was lurking through, waiting on the pain relief being gone just to pounce on him once more.

Opening his eyes, he realized the Portkey must have worked, he was in the hospital wing, and the smell should have given it away really. It always smelt the same; a distinctive smell of disinfectant. Poppy did it all by hand with proper materials and didn't just do it with her wand. Poppy was very self conscious of her hospital wing and always cleaned it, every day, twice if someone was injured.

"How are you feeling, Severus?" asked Poppy, noticing he was awake, bustling over; she cast a spell to diagnose how he was. She only did it for a week back, knowing she'd be there for weeks if she asked for a full rundown of his history. She already knew about it, it was in his medical file in her office, he'd been through more than most people could imagine in his life. She refrained from bothering him overly much, knowing Severus couldn't tolerate people annoying him. He was ten times worse when he was tired or hurt. Which he was probably both at the moment, and she didn't want to end up with the brunt of his words.

"I'm fine," said Severus, despite the fact he knew he wasn't.

Poppy just rolled her eyes, fine, he could be dying and he would insist he was fine. Sometimes Severus could be too proud; it bordered on idiotic. At least he wouldn't be in any pain right now, since she'd just given him another dose of pain relief. It would last up to six hours, depending on how bad it really was. Which was difficult to decipher since Severus never told her how he was really feeling. She was also relieved that he was mostly healed; he couldn't tolerate people touching him, even her. The wounds would be tender for weeks, and open at the slightest provocation, so she would keep him in until he was properly healed. Although she might have to bind the stubborn man to the bed to keep him there, he always slunk away to the dungeons whenever he could. Not this time, dear Merlin, she'd never seen him so bad, and she refused to play his games this time.

"Do you think you can eat?" asked Poppy, withholding the urge to tuck the bed sheets in.

"No," replied Severus, his stomach felt queasy as hell, no doubt thanks to all those bloody Cruciatus Curses cast his way. Traitors weren't looked upon kindly, four or five of them had cast it upon him at a time. While there he'd been terrified he'd end up like the Longbottoms, something he wouldn't, couldn't do…he'd rather die. The idiots at St. Mungo's wouldn't care for him either, he'd made enemies of everyone, both in the Order, Hogwarts and of course now the Death Eaters; nowhere was really safe. It was only a matter of time before Dumbledore washed his hands of him; he'd give the old fool a year at the most. It would give him enough time to plan something; he really should have done this before. He had been prepared during the first war, but it had ended, so he had never thought further of it. He would have to do it now; nobody couldn't say he hadn't done his part…but he hadn't really…he's sworn to protect Harry Potter, yet he was nowhere to be seen. He would need to stay in the UK and under the radar and look for the boy himself. With teaching dunderheads he might actually have a better chance than anyone else. He had to do it, for himself, for Harry Potter, and most important of all, Lily.

"Severus, you need to eat something, you know the effect of potions on an empty stomach better than anyone else," stated Poppy firmly. She crossed her arms, staring at Severus intently, not about to let him talk her out of it. He had been unconscious for six days; this was the seventh day, he was bound to be starving.

"How long have I been here?" asked Severus, ignoring her for the moment.

"It's morning, you have been unconscious for six days, seven if you include the day you were called," said Poppy firmly. "You need to eat something; you won't get better until you look after yourself."

"Ah, Severus, you are awake, good," said Albus Dumbledore, in his pink and orange robes swirling into the hospital wing as if he lived there.

"He is not well enough to receive visitors," said Poppy adamantly, facing the Headmaster. Severus was too ill to put up with the Headmaster's manipulations. Oh, she knew all too well what the Headmaster wanted; she'd seen it happen often enough to know by now. He wanted to know what had happened, as if it couldn't bloody wait until he recovered. It was as if he didn't care about Severus or his sufferings.

"I won't take up too much of his time," said Albus, brushing off her concern as if she was being overly dramatic.

"It's fine, Poppy," said Severus, using his remaining strength to close his mind off to ensure the Headmaster couldn't get into his mind.

"Severus!" cried Poppy, shaking her head in exasperation. It was little wonder Dumbledore just did whatever he wanted, with him acquiescent to his demands.

"I will have some vegetable soup, fresh bread if they have any in the kitchens," said Severus, manipulating her to get her away. He needed to know what Dumbledore wanted with him; he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he wasn't going to like it either way. Merlin, he was so very tired, every bone in his body just screamed at him rest. Sometimes he just wanted to fall asleep and never wake back up. It was such a chore to get up every morning, to teach idiots who had no desire to learn the subtle arts of potions making. The highlight of his life was when he was free to brew and create in his lab, and what kind of life was that? For far too long he'd been living under the shadows of others, never able to do what he wanted…it left him exhausted, simply put.

"Of course," said Poppy, appropriately distracted as she walked off towards her office to call upon the kitchen staff to bring food for her patient.

"How are you feeling, my boy?" asked Dumbledore, his blue eyes alight with concern, as he moved to sit down beside the bed. He was surprised the wizard was still alive if he was honest with himself; he'd been severely injured. Although Severus was strong, he'd give him that, it's what made him the perfect spy. He just wanted to ask what happened, to know if he still had a spy or if he was useless. Although not completely useless, he still had his uses; spying was one, and for another use, he had plans on allowing Severus to change his Slytherins' thoughts on Voldemort, perhaps enabling him to garner another spy.

"I'm fine," said Severus, his face impassive, he'd never admit to being weak.

"What happened, my boy?" asked Dumbledore, finally getting to what he wanted to know without endless platitudes. That's what he liked about Severus, he didn't talk his ear off about how bad he had it, or how he was missing someone like the Order did. Unfortunately he had to grin and bear it; they did do what he wanted them to, so he put up with it.

"I was found out," said Severus sourly, he just wanted to wring that bloody rat's neck.

"I gathered as much; I thought we were careful―how did it happen?" asked Dumbledore, severely put out. He hoped there wasn't another spy in the Order, it was the last thing he needed. Pettigrew had been enough during the last war. Such a weakling, the only reason he'd allowed him in was to keep Black, Potter and Lupin happy. Something that had led to their downfall, but he couldn't bring himself to care, since it had resulted in the defeat of Voldemort. He had wished it would be him who would bring an end to the terror again, and receive the accolades that followed. He'd had to alter his plans when the prophecy had been told, instead he'd vowed to take on this would-be-saviour and mould him to his exact specifications. That plan too had been scrapped, just after he thought it was going so well; he still didn't understand why the ungrateful brat had run off. Perhaps it had been the wrong move to send Potter back to Privet Drive.

"Pettigrew," snarled Severus, wincing as a jab of pain nearly rendered him immobile.

"He is becoming a great nuisance." said Dumbledore, irritated beyond belief. Perhaps it was time to bring the wizard down, free Sirius Black; he'd be more useful that way. It was also another way to ensure his loyalty, and ensure he continued to have the use of Grimmauld Place. And perhaps when it happened he could get money from the wizard to ensure the continuation of the Order. Plus he would finally figure out how the hell the evil wizard had come back, he had a few ideas of course, nothing concrete.

Severus stared at Dumbledore with a look of disbelief on his face; he wouldn't call Pettigrew a nuisance, and the wizard always had the tendency to downplay things. The bloody rat had revealed him as a spy! Almost killed him, and lost Dumbledore his spy within the Dark Lord's ranks and all he had to say was becoming a great nuisance? It was little wonder he was staring at him with 'you think?' written all over his face.

"When you are feeling up to it, I have another job for you," said Dumbledore, "There is a group of rebels in London, a coven, I need watching. I need to find out more about them. With your ability of spying, I'm sure you are the perfect person for the job. Do not let yourself be caught; Hogwarts and the Order still need you. These are the coordinates of the area; the wards are child's play," finished Albus, placing the piece of paper on the hospital stand. He did want Snape to return alive, with his information and of course to speak to the Slytherins, particularly Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Those two had exceptional occlumency shields, perfect for spying. If Snape didn't come back, then he would just have to convince the Slytherins himself, but he knew they wouldn't trust him. Still, there was more than one way to skin a cat, as he'd learned early in life.

"Very well," said Severus. It seems he had been wrong, a year indeed. He'd barely woken up and he wanted him to spy on a coven of Vampires? He must be out of his gourd if he thought he'd survive something like that; it must have been a platitude. Defeat thrummed through him, he wasn't going to get the chance to live out/plan his contingency plan after all. Closing his eyes as Dumbledore left, he apologised profusely to Lily for letting her down; he was but a man, and he could only do so much.

"Take care of yourself, my boy," said Dumbledore before he closed the Hospital wing doors only to run straight into Remus Lupin. "Ah, Remus, I'm surprised to see you here…is everything alright?" his voice cautious.

"I was just going to see Poppy, my ribs are still a little tender," said Remus, holding onto them for show. A fortnight ago he'd taken a blasting curse to the side; thankfully his shield had prevented any real danger.

"Ah, I see," said Albus relaxing, not thinking for a second that goody-two-shoes Remus Lupin had been eavesdropping. "I'm sorry to hear that, my boy!" With the werewolf unable to keep a steady job, he had no money to buy himself the necessities, and so Albus always told him to go to Poppy if he needed it. She always gave him a few potions before the full moon, as well as Severus providing him with the Wolfsbane Potion.

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Remus quietly, then the wizard moved off. Remus continued to stare after him, barely able to believe it. Charity had told him what happened, how could Dumbledore send Snape after the coven? Oh, he knew good and well who the coven was, and obviously Dumbledore suspected something, but not that it was Harry. Staring at the door, he backed away, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. Then he bolted, running all the way out of Hogwarts, down her steps and along the path, not bothering with the coaches. He had to do something, anything to save Severus Snape.

And in the Hospital wing, Severus Snape called for a House-Elf to bring him clothes, defeat shining in his back eyes. As he, with agony spearing through him, forced himself out of the bed. By the time he had done so, the Elf had returned and he spelled the clothes on instead of dressing, in too much agony to even contemplating dressing the normal way. Turning to Poppy's office, listening, when he was sure she wouldn't return, he began leaving, grabbing a level ten pain relief and the paper Dumbledore left, as he did so before he was gone. He preferred dying at the hands of a stranger than ending up in Azkaban when Dumbledore was through with him ― which he evidently was.

It took Severus an hour to get to his destination in London; he could sense the wards without even getting too close. The wards were wrapped in darkness, beautifully done and twisted in a fashion that altered them from the norm. Whoever had done this was good, very good. He doubted he could get through them without alerting whoever the Sire of the coven was. Then again, wasn't that his intention? To rip the wards down and allow himself to be detected? His stomach growled fiercely, he wished he'd eaten something before coming…his last meal, so to speak.

Once he was through the Muggle repelling wards, he began to break down the wards. He barely got through three of them before someone made their presence known. It was no vampire; he didn't know what the hell it was, but it certainly wasn't a night dweller. Without thinking really, he began duelling the wizard-something creature, he definitely wasn't a fully wizard/human, he could sense it. Whatever he was, though, it became apparent he was powerful, very much so which stood to reason if he would guard the place, he supposed.

Back and forth the spells were cast; Severus could feel himself weakening, but refused to give in. If this was his end, he would make it such an end to be worthy of remembrance. Then he froze when that voice yelled, his magic brushing out in warning, and dear Merlin, what a warning it was. He'd spent his time around powerful wizards, and they rarely scared him, probably because he didn't fear anything other than torture, he supposed. Not even death scared him, it would only give him the peace he desired. Withholding a moan, he felt the wounds on his chest open up, just as painful as the first time it happened.

Current Time - Rick & Harry - Searching For Pettigrew

Harry and Rick laughed as they bolted from Wigtown, a little Magical community, hidden within a Muggle community in Scotland. Someone was going to be replacing their wards all night, everywhere they went; they removed wards to see who was there, in their hunt for Peter Pettigrew. Thankfully whoever it was wasn't an Auror, so they didn't need to worry about having them on their tail. Although they were sure the area five towns back had been, their robes were distinctive, but the wizard hadn't even thought to grab their 'magical signature,' just run after them like an idiot. They'd pretended to run at a human pace, not giving away their true nature. Only once they were sure they'd outrun him did they run at a fast pace, only then Apparating away so they couldn't be traced.

"What an idiot," said Rick shaking his head; honestly, they acted like children instead of thinking and behaving like adults. It was probably due to the fact the wizard would have been relieved it wasn't Voldemort.

"That's putting it lightly," replied Harry dryly, as they continued on.

"I don't think we are going to have much luck tonight," muttered Rick, as they walked from yet another town without success. Both of them being vampires, it didn't take any time at all, although they did have to stop to investigate all warded areas and decide if it was worth breaking them to find out what lay at the other side of them. Most were just properties; surprisingly most had been empty of life. Rick and Harry fled as quickly as possible, trying not to use magic. They didn't want to antagonise the Auror force, although against them they'd be all but eradicated. Still, he knew Harry would rather avoid an all-out war. Despite looks to the contrary, Harry did care about the people who put themselves in his keeping, looking to him for leadership, a purpose, acceptance they wouldn't get from the majority of the magical world. It was like a little box, and you had to be perfect, otherwise you were discarded, he knew from personal experience.

"I did not think we would, the answers I am looking for will present themselves soon enough," said Harry surely, either way Pettigrew would be going down.

"What makes you think he will tell you?" asked Rick curiously, "He is loyal to Dumbledore." Much like the wolf Harry had tried to recruit last year, he thought.

"Then answer me this, why did he swear a vow about me?" asked Harry, as they walked now at a normal 'human' pace. The light was beginning to dawn over the horizon, he would need to return to Potter Manor soon. There was no way he wanted that wizard in his home alone and awake.

"That is curious," admitted Rick, "It's certainly what saved his life; have you managed to get any information from him?"

"No, not yet. He's far too injured. I'm honestly surprised Pomfrey let him go when she did; she didn't let me leave until I was fully recovered," said Harry bemused.

Rick nodded, he knew all about Hogwarts and Harry's first year there. Admittedly it wasn't much; he'd asked Kai, but he hadn't been willing to share either. He'd insisted it wasn't his story to tell, and so he remained to this day curious, although he'd bet his fortune it was something to do with Dumbledore. He missed Kai a great deal; he'd been the one to tell Harry he was gone. The look on his face had actually been one he hoped never to see again. Now, most vampires had bonds with those they had turned, their lovers, and mates. Yet he'd never seen one closer than Kai and Harry, he'd spent nearly every moment with him, teaching him everything he knew. Which was a lot, considering Kai'd been older than Rick. Then Harry had changed, bitter at the world, but in a good way, surprisingly; he'd put all his anger to productive use, and actually done something impressive and awe-inspiring. Malaki, or Kai as he called him, would have been so proud of him; so young, yet he'd accomplished things they'd only dreamed about. Now the death toll for the underworld was at its all time lowest, and it was all down to Harry. From what Harry said about Pomfrey, she cared deeply about everyone, healed all those who came to her doors. She had been the kindest person Harry ever knew; she'd cared about his wellbeing, that he ate, wasn't in pain when everyone else had failed him. That was partly why he'd adapted to this life quicker than any other before him.

"I think we are done for tonight," said Harry, staring at the sky, slightly put out that he hadn't succeeded but unsurprised. Given time, he was positive he'd have his answers.

"I meant to say earlier, Dale needs some work," said Rick, as always standing close to his leader just in case they were surprised. Not only would he protect him because he was their leader and had promised to do so, but because he was Kai's childe.

"I'm sure I can come up with something for him to do," said Harry impassively, Dale didn't need work, he needed money, and without people willing to hire him, he for most part suffered because of it. Not just him, but his kids as well, it was why he gave the man jobs to do if he couldn't afford the rent. He had managed for a few months so far, doing any odd jobs that came along, nothing permanent unfortunately. Dale was currently learning warding from Bill, though, he was hoping to get a more permanent job at Gringotts. With Bill as a reference he might be in with a good shot. The Goblins didn't care who they employed, light or dark, as long as they did their job and did it well, to the 'Gringotts' standard as they liked to say. "How is he doing with warding?"

"He's actually really good," confessed Rick, "Nowhere near expert level, but with time he will be learning from them as he goes along."

"Indeed," said Harry, his lip twitching. Truth be told there was nothing needing to be done, he would have to think of something. When he gave his word, he kept it. Dale had never come to him needing money, he was much too proud for that. No, Wyatt had spoken to Rick about it, and he'd overheard. He hadn't realized how bad it was, even glimpsing bits of Dale's thoughts over the years. So like the Slytherin he was meant to be, he had asked for Dale's help and paid him at the end of it. Dale hadn't suspected a thing, still didn't, despite the fact he only conveniently needed him when he wouldn't be able to afford his rent. "I assume you can handle things at the warehouse?"

"Of course," said Rick nodding firmly.

"You know where I am if you need me," said Harry, before he Apparated. Well, it was the start of a brand new day.

Harry Apparated to his bedroom in Potter Manor. It was the Master bedroom, and by far the largest of them all. It had been red and gold all over when he first moved in. It had hurt his eyes just to look at it; he wanted no reminder that he'd been an idiot and chosen Gryffindor over his rightful house, Slytherin house. Now the room was done in cream, whites, light brown and black, although Harry didn't spend much time in here... well, other than the obvious. He went nowhere he didn't trust, which meant anyone he slept with always came back here, not that they knew where 'here' was. They saw the bedroom, nothing else, since the manor was littered items with his coat of arms, a unique heraldic design for his family line. Then there was also the collection of portraits belonging to his ancestors. It seemed absolutely every single Potter was there with the exception of his parents; they had no frame.

Shaking off his thoughts, he stared at the wizard before waving his hand over him; a scroll of parchment furled in mid air. Gracefully he grabbed onto it, unrolling it; his green eyes went from left to right, as he read the entire medical history of one Severus Snape. Sitting down, he couldn't help shaking his head. Merlin, he'd thought his medical history had been bad, Snape's was ten times worse. From the age of three until seventeen it was bad, but not worse than all the times the Cruciatus Curse had been cast, and that was just the one spell; there were so many here, how the hell had this man survived? Harry had to admit one thing, he was strong, or was he? Nobody could go that long looking after themselves without breaking down, especially with such painful spells cast your way. Being used left, right, and centre, perhaps that was why he'd been so ready to die. Harry couldn't imagine just how tired he was, how defeated; enough to throw down the gauntlet so to speak. So this was how the light side treated its champions; he was glad he had left, now more than ever before.

"Dobby?" called Harry, staring pensively at the results.

"Yes, sir?" asked the Elf responding to his Master's call.

"Bring up a mug of soup, preferably tomato or chicken, something without pieces in it," said Harry. He'd been giving Snape potions on an empty stomach, not a good idea. It would just make the wizard sicker than ever. Why he'd come in such a bad shape he'd never know. Yet he did, didn't he? Deep down he knew, that this wizard had came to die. Where was the honour in that? Where the hell was the Slytherin in the man? Had he changed so much since he saw him last? Then again, what did he really know about him? Nothing.

"Dobby will be back," said the Elf, before he disappeared from view.

Dobby was the only Elf to serve him; the Manor had been empty when he'd employed the Elf. The others had all died or been set free by his father after he left, having no intentions of living in such a large place with all the memories of his deceased parents. The last one died of old age when he was six years old. At least according to the portraits anyway. Keeping Dobby had been one of his best decisions, although it wasn't as if he had a choice; the Elf had found him after all. He couldn't let him go back and tell everyone. Ironic really, since Dobby hadn't had any intentions of telling anyone; he'd just wanted to protect him.

The scar on his face didn't look any better, it may have been Dark Magic, and hmm... Perhaps he had a task for Dale after all. Standing up, he moved to his fireplace and threw in powder to the warehouse, hoping the wizard was there.

"How can I help you, sir?" asked Brecon, pausing in eating; placing the fork back on the plate he gave the leader his full attention.

"Is Dale here?" asked Harry, unable to see anything other than the kitchen and majority of the sitting area.

"Yes, sir, he's up the stairs learning with Bill," stated Brecon. Not long after, Dale made his appearance, knowing he was wanted.

"I have a task for you," said Harry, speaking directly to Dale.

"What is it?" asked Dale, his shoulders unconsciously relaxing, he couldn't wait until he had a proper job.

"I need a vial of phoenix tears, find out how much they want for it and come to Potter manor." stated Harry. "The quicker it's done the more I'll make it worth your while."

"Right away," said Dale grimly.

"Very well; be careful and do not take risks," said Harry, before the Floo disconnected and Harry's face disappeared from view. When Harry withdrew his head, he saw Dobby was standing there with the mug, there was barely steam coming from it, which was a good thing; he didn't want to burn the wizard's throat.

"Thank you, Dobby, that will be all for now. Go get something to eat and take a rest," said Harry sternly.

"Yes, sir," said Dobby, beaming at him despite his harsh words, knowing the wizard cared about him, and he disappeared again to do as his Master bid.

Harry walked over to the bed, unable to believe he was about to play nursemaid to anyone. It comforted him somewhat that Snape wouldn't be any happier if he was awake. Chuckling wryly, he sat down and raised Snape so he wasn't lying down but almost sitting up, using his body to take any stress off Snape's, making sure his chest wounds didn't open up again. Opening his mouth, he poured in some soup, massaging his throat to make him swallow unconsciously. He continued only pouring in small amounts until the mug was empty. Harry found himself enjoying the experience, Merlin knows why. Snape was completely reliant on him; he was taking care of someone properly, not just telling them what to do, or giving them money whether they knew it or not, or somewhere safe to stay away from the general populace. Staring at Snape's face, Harry was deep in thought; why did his magic sing to him? It's the only way he could describe it, it called to him on a deep primal level, one he couldn't ignore. Why did he feel the need to look after him? After all the shit Snape did when he was eleven, he shouldn't feel like that…yet if he didn't look after him, who the hell was going to? Both sides seem to want to see the powerful wizard dead. Such a waste that would be; not only was he powerful, but all life was precious. Yes, he killed, but only because he must, only when he had to. It was the natural state of anyone to want to live; it was a kill or be killed world, and any man would rather kill than allow themselves to be shot down. This man was one of them; Merlin, he must be at the end of his rope to even consider what he had.

Absently he placed the empty mug on the cabinet, before easing the wizard back onto the bed, wondering briefly how long it would take for him to wake up. He still wanted his answers; hopefully Snape would make it easy for both of them, but somehow he doubted it. He wondered how much it would cost for the phoenix tears, either way he had no money on hand. He would have to go to Gringotts. That would have to wait until Dale was successful, and he would be; the task might be difficult, but he was confident Dale would get the vial for him. Not only did Dale know all his contacts, he had ones of his own who would no doubt know where to get the tears.

Many thanks to Jordre for all the hard work put into editing the story :)