Like so many times before, Harry found himself unable to shield himself as his mind was invaded. This time the touch was gentler, as it was Dumbledore, not Snape, but it was just as intrusive. Harry dropped to the floor instantly, his vision of the office receding, replaced by images of the past few months.
Himself, discovering the library in Grimmauld Place, beginning to read the books in fascination…
His nights under the cover of darkness sneaking out of the dormitory to practice in empty classrooms, conjuring creatures to practice on and looking up new spells by day…
The conversations with Daphne, his deep fascination with her…himself watching her from across the Hall, watching the way her mouth moved when she spoke, wondering…
The Slytherin Common Room…speaking seriously to Daphne on the bed, kissing her…
Professor McGonagall, looking horrified, Petrified on the floor of the Transfiguration classroom…
And suddenly it was over. Harry lay panting on the floor, feeling wrung out, worse than he had ever felt after one of Snape's interrogations. He shivered, staring at the grain of the wooden floor and refusing to look up, to stand, to face the Headmaster…
"Harry."
It wasn't the deep, hard voice he had been expecting, but a very familiar, very feminine voice.
"Daphne?" he croaked. "How did you get here?" he looked up at last and saw her standing, her wand out, above a prone Dumbledore. "What the hell?" he asked, disbelief evident in every syllable.
"What?" she asked sharply. "Get up. He's Stunned, and you don't need to be on the ground anymore."
"How did you Stun him?" asked Harry. He hadn't meant for it to sound like an insult, but that was how it came out. She glared. "I mean…" he shrugged helplessly, giddy with relief.
"You got a note, looked like you were ready to die, and then left the hall," she explained stridently. "Of course I followed you. I suspected you, of course, but when you came to this office I was certain."
"You followed me?"
"You're not the only one who's heard of a Disillusionment Charm, you know!" she snapped, her eyes flashing. "Wake up, Potter! Why would I take Dumbledore in a fair fight, which I know I would lose, when I could Stun him from behind when he's busy fiddling with your mind? Lose a little of that Gryffindor nobility and honor, would you? There is nopointin a fair fight. Learn that soon, and you'll live a lot longer! Sure, it's a Slytherin ideal, but I Stunned him from behind and we're both going to come out of this unharmed!" she subsided, breathing hard through her nose.
"What am I going to do now?" Harry mumbled, feeling ashamed and not wanting to come back to this topic. The idea of effectively stabbing someone in the back raked across his nerves, but he could see exactly what she was saying. "He knows…everything. He found everything out."
She shrugged. "We only have one choice, then, you realize."
He looked at her haggardly. "What?"
"We have to modify our Headmaster's memory, and then," her smile returned. "I'm going to kidnap you and walk out of here."
"He'll know something was wrong if we modify his memory," Harry mumbled, pacing and staring at the Headmaster's closed eyes. He didn't trust the man to stay down, even Stunned.
"That's because you had all the finesse of an elephant when you Cursed McGonagall," Daphne snapped, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to use a regular Memory Charm, not the modified one you did. They're almost impossible to detect, and I learned from a master Obliviator."
"All right," said Harry grudgingly. "What are you going to…modify it for?" he was unsure how to phrase the question.
"You walked in here. He went through your mind but found nothing out of the ordinary. You left, and he followed you down a few minutes later, planning on having a late supper. He turned the corner just in time to see me Stun you. He didn't have time to do anything before I Portkeyed you away. All right?"
"Right," said Harry dizzily, confused by this turn of events. He could feel sweat forming on his brow and his hands were still trembling from the Legilimency attack. He realized vaguely that his decision was being made for him, but he couldn't think clearly enough to argue.
Daphne raised her wand and cast the memory charm, concentrating intently for a moment. Harry continued to stare at the floor. He felt ill.
"Let's get out of here," she said quietly. Harry followed her wordlessly down the stairs and through the halls. She led him toward the Gryffindor Common Room, and he wondered for a moment how she knew where it was, before shrugging the fact off. After all, he knew where the Slytherin Common Room was.
The Fat Lady's portrait was in sight, but it was blocked by the unfortunate obstacle of Neville Longbottom.
"What are you doing, Harry?" he asked sharply. "She's a Slytherin. Are you showing her where the Common Room is?"
"Neville—" Harry began, but Daphne was quicker.
"Stupefy!"
The boy blocked it quickly, and Harry took a step back. He hadn't noticed the wand in the round-faced boy's hand, and now Neville had opened fire on Daphne, shooting several Stunners at her. She retaliated quickly, and he could tell that Neville had improved, but was still no match for Daphne.
Harry opened his mouth to halt them when Neville sent an ugly-looking green hex directly at Daphne, which blazed right through her shield and hit her in the stomach, throwing her backwards into the wall. Blood dribbled from her mouth, and she lay still.
Harry growled. "Dark Magic, Neville?" he raised his wand threateningly.
"I don't know what's going on here, Harry, but I don't like it!" called the other boy. "Magic can be dangerous without being Dark! I wouldn't use a Dark spell—"
Harry cast a Stunner at Neville, who shielded quickly and got off an"Expelliarmus!"Harry watched in disbelief as his wand sailed out of his hand.
"What are you doing?" asked Neville roughly, striding toward him. "Does this have something to do with Mc—"
The sentence was never finished, as Harry wandlessly threw Neville into the wall and quickly sent a purple hex at him at the same time. The hex was not as effective as it would have been with a wand, but it still did what it was designed to and removed Neville's vocal cords, leaving the boy shocked and gasping. He managed to fire off a silent Cutting curse as before he collapsed, taking Harry by surprise and opening a gash across his right temple. Harry strode toward him.
"Oblivesci!"
This was no time for finesse; he had no idea what Daphne had been hit with. His thoughts were crystal clear now; he had made his choice. The words 'magic can be dangerous without being dark' had cinched it for him.
He left Neville there, lying on his back with his eyes wide. As an afterthought he Disillusioned the boy so that no one would see him immediately and wonder. He cast a quick memory charm on the Fat Lady as well, thankful that there were no other portraits in the hall, and said quickly, "hippogriff."
He picked up Daphne as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open and dashed in, carrying her. Luckily there was no one in the Common Room, as it was supper time; Harry, panting, carried Daphne up the stairs. She was breathing very faintly, and he noticed that there was a small amount of blood coming from her ears.
Whatwasthat spell Neville had used, he wondered, as he searched frantically through his trunk. Although it wasn't dark, it was certainly not a spell that could be used for any other purpose than to harm people, he was sure. Neville had obviously been training, Harry supposed in order to fight Bellatrix Lestrange, as the boy had told him at the beginning of the summer.
He let out a breath of relief as he removed the white mask. He made sure it was touching both him and Daphne and muttered, "I accept." He felt the familiar tug behind his navel just before he spun away into a swirl of darkness.
Hermione yawned and stood. She and Ron had dawdled over dinner, wondering what the results were of Harry's interrogation. Neither she nor Ron really believed the Headmaster's suspicions, and she didn't particularly approve of Dumbledore's methods, but she supposed that if there was even a tiny chance, they needed to know.
She stood up as Dumbledore entered the hall, fearing the worst when she saw that Harry wasn't there. Her fears increased when she saw the look on the Headmaster's face.
Something was very, very wrong.
Dumbledore's eyes passed over her, but he didn't meet her gaze. Hermione began walking hesitantly toward him, wondering what had created that look of horror on the Headmaster's face. As she approached him, he turned to look at her.
It was horrifying to see Dumbledore like this, looking as if he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Hermione was so used to thinking of him as infallible that she was terrified to hear what had happened. Only her Gryffindor bravery made her come near him.
"Professor?" she asked hesitantly. "What happened?"
The atmosphere in the Gryffindor Common Room, far from the rebellious one that had presided after Professor McGonagall's attack, was one of numb disbelief. Hermione sat staring at the fire, unable to move. The entire room was silent, though as full as it ever was.
Professor Dumbledore had asked her to keep the news quiet, but Pansy Parkinson had overheard them somehow and now the entire school knew. She knew that the dull look in Dumbledore's eyes as he announced that Harry had been kidnapped would haunt her for the rest of her life.
The silence in the room was broken by a small noise as Ron began methodically ripping a roll of parchment to shreds. Hermione turned to look at him, meeting his furious gaze with her solemn one.
An hour ago she had known what the evening would hold; a snogging session with Ron, followed by an hour curled up in front of the fireplace with a book.
Now everything had changed. She knew, bleakly, that the entire balance of the war had shifted.
If they lost Harry, they lost everything.
"Did Dumbledore…tell you what happened?" Ginny asked timorously, from beside Hermione.
"Daphne Greengrass," Ron said dully, before Hermione could respond. "She Stunned him and Portkeyed him away. Dumbledore tried to follow the trace of their Portkey, but someone had made it untraceable."
"And he tried the Greengrass residence, and the Longbottoms, and even tried a location spell for Harry and Greengrass," Hermione continued listlessly. "They're at an Unplottable residence under the Fidelius Charm. Even Dumbledore can't get through both of those enchantments."
"How the hell did this happen?" barked Seamus Finnegan, kicking the wall vigorously. "What happened to all these new bloody security measures they were supposed to be putting in place? Fat lot of good all those did Harry!" there was a murmur of agreement.
The portrait hole opened, and Neville stumbled in. Hermione, despite her deadened state, jumped up quickly to help him. He was bleeding from the mouth and had a large bump on the back of his head. His hands were bruised, as if he had been punching something extremely hard.
"Neville? What happened?" she asked quickly, helping him to a seat. "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey—"
Neville waved her away. One of his eyes was swollen shut. "Dunno…what happened," he mumbled, staring at her. "One minute leaving supper, next minute lying on my face in the corridor, waking up from the worst nightmare of my life…"
The entire common room became more silent still, every occupant watching Neville. Hermione knew it was no coincidence that this described exactly the same thing that had happened to Professor McGonagall.
"Where were you?" she asked, her mind beginning to work.
"Dunno. Started in the Great Hall, woke up in the hall right outside the door…"
"It must have been Greengrass," Ron spat. "That's where she kidnapped Harry!"
"What?" Neville's head snapped up, and he winced. "What happened?" he looked furiously around.
At this point the tears started, and Hermione turned her head away. Neville looked lost, staring around the room, but no one was willing to repeat the story.
How could Neville have ended up in the hallway here if he had lost his memory up to a point where he had been in the great hall?
Hermione sighed, wiping at her eyes. It was a mystery for another day. The school had all but shut down once the official announcement had been made. Dumbledore had seen that he couldn't keep the gossip mill from speculating about what had happened, so he had given them the plain situation, and Hermione almost wished he hadn't. At the same time, she knew that if Dumbledore hadn't been so shocked, the real story would never have come to them.
She found herself feeling a small amount of anger at the Headmaster; he had suspected Harry of Dark magic, of all things, and isolated him from the rest of the school during a meal, an ideal time for what had happened. Hermione had even seen Greengrass follow Harry out the door of the Great Hall, and discounted it.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
She knew that currently Dumbledore, Flitwick, Sprout and Snape were doing all they could to find Harry, but the situation seemed hopeless.
Severus permitted himself a small smile as he ascended the stairs to the Head office, listening with one ear as Filius, Pomona and Albus spoke quietly to each other ahead of him. He had been the one to teach Daphne Greengrass to cast a memory charm, recognizing the astonishing potential she had as an Obliviator.
Clearly, Albus Dumbledore had been the subject of one of these charms. He recognized his pupil's work, and it was no worse than he could have done himself.
"Did you have any word of this, Severus? Any word at all?" asked Albus, turning to him as they entered the office and sat down. Severus put a regretful expression on his face.
"I had no news at all, Headmaster. The Dark Lord has been more than usually silent about his plans of late. I will, of course, see if there is any way for the boy to be rescued, but the Dark Lord has very stringent security measures. Potter is not even being held at his Headquarters; I checked the moment I heard the news." He allowed a small sneer to creep onto his face. "He will most certainly have an anti-Portkey ward."
"No need for that, Severus," said Filius sharply. "The mistake has been made now, and we must rectify it."
"Well said," said Sprout. "This is important, Severus. Is there any way—"
"I am not privy to all of the Dark Lord's plans," Snape said sharply. "I certainly had no knowledge of this one, and therefore no more idea than you how to remedy it. For all I know, Greengrass may have been acting on her own in hopes of having the Dark Lord return her family to her." This was a lie that they had fabricated together, in order to have Daphne get into the Longbottoms' house and closer to Potter. Severus knew that it had worked, and silently congratulated himself once again on a perfectly carried out plan.
Dumbledore looked pained. "I should have anticipated that she may have taken this course of action," he said quietly, as if to himself. "I should not have been so eager to put her with Augusta, so in reach of Harry…"
"The mistake had been made, Albus!" repeated Filius. "Think of a solution!"
"If I may," began Snape, "It is doubtful that the Dark Lord will immediately kill Potter, as he does not yet know the whole of the Prophecy." He did, but there was not point in mentioning that yet. Snape had informed the Dark Lord the moment he had plucked the contents of the Prophecy from Potter's mind. "There could be something that he does not want to risk killing the boy for, as he doesn't know what the rest says."
"Yes," murmured Albus, "That would be characteristic of Tom. We have some time, at least, then. I shielded the Prophecy's contents within Harry's mind. It is doubtful that Tom will be able to find it out."
"I will endeavor to find out where the boy is being kept," Snape suggested silkily. "Until then, there is nothing you can do but…wait."
The three other members of the room lapsed into silence, and Severus waited. He knew it was the only option they had, and they had to open themselves to the idea. It would take a few moments.
"Does Madam Pomfrey have any word on Minerva?" Sprout asked meekly into the silence. Severus smirked inwardly. He had visited the matron that very morning and altered her memory so that she wouldn't recognize Potter's distinct magical signature on Minerva. Really, he shouldn't have to clean up after the boy like this, but it was a change from his usual Slytherin-babysitting duties at the school.
"She says she doesn't recognize the signature of whoever did it," he said out loud. "Unfortunately, we may have to assume that it was someone from outside the school. Perhaps to distract us while Miss Greengrass organized her coup."
"I don't like this," muttered Sprout. "Suddenly we have uncontrollable enemies within the school. Even in past years, we've been fairly assured of where everyone's loyalties lay, and we could watch those we needed to. But now Malfoy and Nott haven't made noises all year, Minerva is attacked by someone we don't watch, and Greengrass…"
They were back to the main issue. Snape sat back and watched.
"It's all we can do, I suppose," said Filius grudgingly. "As soon as we find out where the boy is, we shall have to organize affirmative action."
Severus nodded as the meeting broke up.I shall just have to make sure you never find out.
Harry stared into the full-length mirror that adorned the wall. His mirror. His wall.
He looked different already. He was no longer wearing his badly fitting school uniform, but a loose black robe over black pants. He had been offered to have his vision corrected first thing, which he had accepted with glee, and now he was looking at himself clearly, without glasses, for the first time in twelve years. His pale, rather gaunt face looked back at him through the silvery glass, and Harry found himself unsatisfied with the face he saw.
It would change, soon, he knew. Everything would change.
The day had been long, and only now was he able to reflect on what it had contained. Everything had been shocking, confusing. Seeing enemies now as allies, former friends as enemies, was something he had not been entirely prepared for. He had not thought about the ramifications of picking up the white mask and activating it, but now that he had…
Now that he had, he realized that what he was doing was surprisingly easy.
The room he had appeared in as soon as the Portkey landed had been hauntingly familiar…
He sprung up, looking wildly around the room. After a cursory glance, he knew immediately where he was. It was a chilling feeling to realize that this room actually existed, that the world that he had been hearing about for the past few months was truly real…
The mirrored or glass walls echoed as he shouted for help. The fountain in the middle of the room burbled loudly, and Harry looked over at it. The statue was in the shape of Daphne, lying in the water, her position mirrored by the real Daphne lying beside the fountain.
"Welcome, Harry."
He spun, and only relaxed slightly when he recognized the tall, angular countenance he had come to recognize. How had he managed to get here so quickly? "Daphne needs help," he said, trying not to allow pleading to enter his voice at all.
Voldemort cast an unconcerned glance toward where Daphne lay limply on the floor. "In good time." He looked intently at Harry, and at the mask still clutched in his hand.
Harry looked at it too, and for the first time realized the enormous ramifications of what he had done. The Boy Who Lived, saviour of the wizarding world, child of prophecy, Gryffindor golden boy…
He was throwing it all away.
He turned, and saw that Daphne was being tended by two women. One was Narcissa Malfoy. She was watching him knowingly, but she said nothing.
"Harry."
He looked up into the slightly red-eyed gaze of the man who had encouraged, pushed, and somewhat mentored him over the past few months.
"I am giving you this choice right now. You will not get another such in the course of your life." The words were emotionless, but they coiled around Harry like a snake. "The Portkey is two-way. All you must do is activate it once again in order to leave the life that I am offering you. We shall resume, perhaps, the state that we were in six months ago.
"You know what acceptance demands. You also know what rewards it will give. Think, Harry, for after making this choice you will not be able to turn back. Dumbledore will not condone your use of Dark magic. You have seen it. You know my offer."
The Dark Lord stepped back, watching Harry, and Harry realized that he had said his piece. It was up to him now.
How long ago had it been, when he had first begun to stray down this path? Back in July, when he had cast his first Unforgivable on Bellatrix Lestrange? Perhaps the moment when he had stepped into that hidden library in Grimmauld Place? The first time he had conjured a creature in order to practice Dark magic on?
That moment when he had kissed Daphne?
Under the Dark Lord, what would he fight for?
He knew the answer, of course. Daphne had drilled it into him all too many times. A world where Dark magic was legal, he would be able to practice it above ground without fear of retribution. A world where the government was not corrupt, where a man like Dumbledore could not hold unlimited power, as he seemed to.
A world where he would be able to give Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley the punishment that they deserved…
The thought crept up on him, and he smiled slightly. He knew that the Dark Lord wouldn't discourage him from what he wanted to do to them, and all like them. Muggles weren't all like that, he knew, but some of them were…
Under, that was the problem word. But a few more months, maybe even years, biding his time, finding out more about Horcruxes, and perhaps Harry Potter would no longer be 'under' anyone.
At what point had the moment occurred, when he had suddenly become acutely aware of his own mortality? Had it been the instant when he looked into Cedric's blank, staring eyes? The moment he had seen Sirius fly backwards into the Veil of Death, never to reappear? The moment he had lain close to death on the doorstep of Privet Drive, waiting to die?
At what point had he known that he would do anything, anything at all, to prolong that same thing happening to him?
The moment he had heard the prophecy, and known that there was no way that he could defeat the man in front of him…
He knelt, feeling a thrill dance through his body. "Master." The word slid easily off his tongue. He knew the Death Eaters referred to him as such.
He heard a gasp behind him. Narcissa hadn't thought he would go through with it. He didn't dare look back, concentrating on the black shoes that were walking toward him. A cool hand grabbed his arm, and he wondered for a second how the Dark Lord had acquired this other body. His thoughts were dragged back to the present when a wand tip was pressed to his arm, and he closed his eyes, knowing what this meant.
The pain was not unlike that of the Cruciatus Curse, but only for a moment, and then the wand-tip was gone and Harry could curl up. He dared to take a glimpse at the arm, which was throbbing and felt as though someone had scraped the skin off it…
Every new Death Eater was inducted in that same room, where the Dark Lord could watch their thoughts through the fountain. No known spy had survived the process, Harry had learned. Voldemort inevitably discovered them, through this or through Legilimency. That still didn't answer the Snape question, though; he knew that anyone who took the mark had every opportunity to change their mind after.
His upper left arm still hurt, and the flesh was red and raw around the new tattoo…
It wasn't the Dark Mark. Harry had expected it, but what had positioned itself there was not a skull with a snake in it, but simply a snake, green-eyed like Harry himself. The snake even moved around, hissing quietly, though not speaking any words that Harry could understand.
Harry had turned hesitantly and looked questioningly at Voldemort.
"Why bear a servant's mark, when you are far from a servant?" he said, and laughed. "Miss Greengrass there bears the same mark, as do several others who show promise. I do not seek to reign, as a monarch, Harry. When I see potential, it is recognized."
And now he stood in his own room on the third floor, clad in new clothes, and wondering where he would begin. He didn't turn when his door opened with a click and Daphne stepped in, looking entirely healed.
"Are you going back to the school?" he asked quietly.
She laughed. "I'm a criminal, Harry. I kidnapped you. What do you think would happen if I went back to Hogwarts?"
"Oh."
She walked over and took a seat on his bed, and only then did he turn to look at her, not her reflection. She was slightly pale, but there was no sign of the curse that had incapacitated her.
"It's a different life," she said softly, staring at him. "The Master is a strict teacher, but fair. And as his apprentice, you will learn things no one at Hogwarts could ever dream of."
"Are you jealous?" Harry asked teasingly, drawing closer to her.
"Not for one moment," she said. "I've found my niche. Remember, Harry, he'll have high expectations of you as well." She lay back suddenly. "What do you think of this place?"
"It isn't…what I expected." Harry said truthfully.
"It isn't what many people expect, at first. They expect some sort of…prison, bloodstained walls, dead bodies, perhaps. They expect death to be the theme." She smiled. "The Master isn't so keen on death that he is eager to bring it into his Headquarters."
The tour had been…odd, to say the least. The Dark Lord's headquarters consisted of four floors, the top one containing merely the room Harry had Portkeyed into. The third floor had included living quarters and a kitchen, the second floor of seven training arenas, five for magical, one for non-magical and one that belonged to the Dark Lord alone. The bottom floor had been dark and closed in, different from the other three floors, and had contained everything from a Potions lab to torture chambers.
"But everything is…well, white, and marble. It seems…" he couldn't put words to his thought.
"Who was it who decided that everyone perceived as 'bad' liked dark, enclosed spaces and the color black?" she asked, laughing. "It's a misconception, and one that I think the Master encourages of the unenlightened. Have you seen the bottom floor?" Harry nodded an affirmative. "I think it's like that to terrify prisoners or new recruits. You didn't come in the normal way, of course."
"Did you?" Harry asked, watching her closely.
She smiled, her eyes glittering. "Everyone does, their first time. My parents had warned me, however. I knew that this place was more than the bottom floor."
Without quite thinking about it, Harry reached forward and grasped her arm. He pushed back the fabric of her sleeve and studied the tattoo that adorned her upper arm, identical to his.
"You said you had found your niche," he said, looking up into her grey eyes. "And the Master said that you were one of his most promising students." He let go of her arm. "What is your niche? What do you do that you are so good at?"
She gently drew her arm away from him. "The Master knows more than any other human being about the human mind. Its manipulations, its inner workings, the keys to opening it…he says that I show great promise in learning to manipulate the mind as finely as he is able to. As an Obliviator, Snape says I will be unequalled. What I am so good at…what I am so good at is that right nowI know what you're thinking."
Harry reeled back, slightly alarmed by the look in her eyes. "You…you—"
"Right now you're thinking, does she really know? Is she telling the truth?" Daphne smiled, unblinking. "Could she really mess up my head as much as she did Dumbledore's?"
Harry sat completely still. He hadn't felt the familiar tickle that he had come to associate with Legilimency.
"You weren't really reading my mind," he said slowly.
She stood up suddenly. "You're right. I wasn't. But Harry, if you hadn't known what Legilimency felt like, you would have thought I was using it. A little magic that makes you think I know everything about you. That's all I need. And if I actually do choose to use Legilimency, very few people have a barricade against me. Hogwarts was a little garden of information, although I suppose the Master will have to rely on Snape for it now."
Harry stared at her. He pictured Ron or Hermione coming up against Daphne Greengrass in a fair fight. And they were unlikely to get even that, considering Daphne's views on fair fights…
And now he was in one of the seven training arenas, wearing the black dueling outfit that had been provided for him. It included three wand holsters, despite the fact that Harry only had one wand. The shirt, pants and boots had a Silencing charm woven in so that they didn't even rustle as he moved.
"We wear black not because it symbolizes the Dark magic we use, as so many seem to think," lectured the Dark Lord, pacing in front of Harry. "We wear it because any opponent, seeing a black-clad man fade out of the shadows, will panic. Black is the universal color of terror and panic, of assassination, of death. That is why we wear it. To inspire these emotions in those who cannot cope with a simple color.
"Black shows no stains, rips, damage…in short, no weakness.Weshow no weakness. However much of your blood stains the black, the opponent will never know." The Dark Lord suddenly raised his wand. "Dormat!"
Harry, lacking time to draw his wand, raised his hand and conjured the same shield he had managed when Daphne had attacked him. The spell impacted his shield and flew back. The Dark Lord swerved easily to avoid it and sent the same spell once again. This time it blew through the shield and Harry fell into darkness.
He woke moments later with a nasty headache.
"Total reliance on one shield, a wandless conjured one at that, is foolish," continued Voldemort as though nothing had happened. Harry rubbed his head. "If you can see the spell coming, avoid it. If such is impossible, raise a stronger shield. Use a real spell." He paused for a moment, eyeing Harry and his wand, still in the holster. "Since a wand is not required, you should not require a wand movement. Repeat.Proteus."
"Proteus," said Harry obediently. A shield of approximately the color and consistency of solid silver sprang up around him. He felt the familiar thrill that came with Dark magic, and at the same time immediately felt sweat begin to bead on his brow. It was an impenetrable shield, doubtless, but it was taking a lot out of him.
"Protecting yourself is the most important skill that you will learn. Lacking the need for subtlety right now, this shield is the best and strongest you can conjure. As you can tell, this shield in particular requires quite a lot of power to be poured into it." The cool voice penetrated the shield. Harry felt himself shaking slightly from the effort of holding the shield wandlessly.
"Dormat."
His legs buckled, but the spell was easily repelled by the silver shield. Harry smiled slightly.
"Dormat."
This time the spell sent him to his knees, but he gritted his teeth and tried to continue.
"Dormat." The spell was repeated, coolly, patiently. The blackness overwhelmed him.
He woke to find himself being studied intently.
"Casting a shield wandlessly appears to require significantly more power than otherwise," said the Dark Lord as Harry got to his feet, rubbing his head. The headache had worsened when he had been hit with the sleep spell again. "Of course, from your earlier actions, the same does not seem to be true of offensive spells." Harry nodded, not seeing where this was going.
"Draw your wand. Cast the shield spell."
Harry obeyed. "Proteus!"the shield sprang into being around him once again. This time, his legs didn't shake.
"Cast a Stunning spell."
Harry's brow creased. He couldn't cast two spells from one wand.
"Wandlessly. With your other hand." The instruction came patiently. "Don't make me repeat myself, Harry."
Harry gritted his teeth and raised his left hand. "St-Stupefy." The silver shield suddenly became nearly translucent, but it held as a bolt of red light shot out of Harry's middle fingertip and impacted the wall nearby. Harry's jaw dropped. He had never seen anyone cast two spells at once, especially two so different.
"Again," urged the Dark Lord. Harry cast the Stunner again, feeling victorious. It sped by the Dark Lord's angular face, lighting it up oddly in shades of red and illuminating his victorious smile.
Severus walked swiftly up the stairs to the Headmaster's office. He was looking forward to this meeting. After so many years of serving the Master in this rat-infested school, it was finally paying off, and he was able to do something useful.
In this case, that something consisted of destroying Albus Dumbledore's spirit.
"Severus," said the old man, leaning forward as he entered the office, the bright light of hope in his eyes. "You're back. What news of Harry?" it had been a week since the boy had fled. Dumbledore had a thousand people out searching the countryside for him, and besides was taking every moment he could to search himself, using several of those odd silver instruments on his desk.
"Albus, I have seen the boy," said Severus, allowing just the right amount of hesitation to enter his voice. Dumbledore leaned forward even more. Severus took a step back. "I don't know that getting him out will be possible at all."
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, frowning. "There must be a way. Where is he being kept?"
"Headmaster, you must know that I cannot speak the name of the place," Severus began, sounding pained. "It is under the Fidelius charm. I can tell you, however, that Potter is being held by the most stringent of security measures. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named abuses him daily. He has suffered a great amount of torture at the Dark Lord's hands already. But I did manage to shield the prophecy within his mind, so that the Dark Lord will be unable to retrieve it. We have a chance, still."
Dumbledore leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. His shoulders slumped. Severus stopped himself from smiling.
"What can I do, Severus?" he asked, his voice muffled. "Too much has gone wrong, and by my own doing. I should have seen something so simple as a Portkey ward. I am a fool."
Severus had nothing to say to this pronouncement. "Headmaster, I must go. I have a class. I will find out more for you when I can." The old man nodded at him, and he turned to leave.
Dumbledore had gotten almost one hundred owls from various school parents, as well as other witches and wizards, in the past week, many of them howlers. It was clear that the Headmaster was the one taking the bulk of the blame for this catastrophe. The Daily Prophet had run an article the day after Potter had left featuring the headline "BOY WHO LIVED KIDNAPPED!" and a picture of Dumbledore, his head desolately held in his hands, similar to the way Severus had just left him.
He had been to the Dark Lord's headquarters twice that week, only once that Dumbledore knew about. The first time he had offered his congratulations to Daphne Greengrass for her Obliviation of the Headmaster, which she had accepted gracefully. Snape had also sat in on one of Potter's training sessions; the Dark Lord was working with the boy nearly seven hours a day, and Potter was showing immense improvement already. It had taken Severus two years to learn to cast with two different wands in unison, but he supposed that wandlessly, the situation was entirely different.
The first formal Death Eater meeting would be held in four days, and Snape knew that Potter would be formally introduced then. He looked forward to the moment.