QLFC Season 11 Round 4
Team: Kestrels and Falcons
CHASER 3: Calcasieu Courthouse, Lake Charles, Louisiana: Write about someone who slips out of trouble time and time again.
Bonus prompt 1: (emotion) pity
Prompt 2: (dialogue) "For what it's worth, I truly am sorry
Prompt 3: (object) lantern
Word count: 2388
Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear-
Then something flew between, casting an ethereal light onto the leafy ground of the clearing. Harry's first thought was a patronus, but then his brain caught up, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Snape!"
And so it was. Or rather, his ghost. Bleeding silver-grey blood from fang shaped wounds on his neck, his eyes were darker than ever, thin and sallow.
Snape ignored his exclamation, instead turning to Voldemort almost urgently.
"My Lord."
"Severus Snape!"
There was a glimmer of fear in Voldemort's eyes which reminded Harry again of what Voldemort was most afraid of: death.
"My Lord," Snape repeated, now with a hit of desperation. "Potter…"
"What about him?" asked Voldemort, regaining control as Snape trailed off hesitantly.
"He is your horcrux."
"Horcrux?"
Harry suppressed a shiver as Voldemort's eyes flicked towards him, a fire within their depths.
"Yes," Snape answered almost breathlessly. Harry listened in disbelief. Snape was betraying him? But — it was Snape who gave him the memories! "You cannot kill him."
"Cannot?" asked Voldemort dangerously, focusing on Snape again. "You dare command your Lord?"
"I only offer my counsel," Snape said quickly, eyes flickering to Harry so quickly that Harry thought he imagined it. "Not until the Horcrux is removed. I know a way."
"I have no need of your counsel," Voldemort replied coldly. "You think your Lord does not take precautions? Rest assured, the horcrux is tainted and will be of no loss."
"My Lord," Snape interrupted as Voldemort raised his wand again, ignoring Harry's glare. "The boy found the diadem."
Harry found his voice at last as Voldemort seemed to reconsider.
"But I couldn't destroy it. I lost the sword."
"He is lying," Snape countered. "He used the fangs from the Chamber."
Harry made to say something but saw Voldemort's lips move, a flash of red light, then all went dark.
When Harry next opened his eyes, it was so dark that Harry half thought that he'd never been asleep. He rubbed his eyes, squinting uselessly in hopes of seeing something.
When nothing happened, he sat and groped blindly for his wand.
"You don't have it, Potter."
Harry looked up, startled. Snape had half floated through the floor, so only his upper half could be seen. Harry felt fury rise within him.
"Come to gloat?" Harry spit spitefully. "Voldemort killed you, but you went back to kissing his feet like the coward you are!"
Snape's lips thinned. "I'm not a coward. It must seem like an alien concept, Potter, but I am working on a plan."
"Oh yeah?" Harry challenged. "What kind of backstabbing plan do you have up your sleeve? Tell me, was my mother real, or are you so depraved as to fake your memories entirely?"
"I DID NOT FAKE MY MEMORIES," Snape roared.
Harry jumped. Snape was still intimidating as a ghost.
Snape seemed to regain his cool at seeing Harry's reaction.
"Tell me, Potter, do you really think I could send you to death when I have spent the better part of my life trying to keep you alive?"
"So what?" Harry retorted. "You are just going to let Voldemort be, all for the sake of your childhood friend? You are even more of a coward than I thought, Snape."
"Of course not," Snape sneered, looking at Harry with disgust. "I have already told the Dark Lord how to remove a horcrux. I am sure you can find some patience from your nonexistent reserve."
"I don't trust you."
"There is hope for you yet," Snape replied, sinking through the floor again.
"Wait!" Harry shouted, but Snape was already gone, and the darkness seemed murkier than ever.
Time seemed meaningless as Harry remained in his barren prison. There was no light and no doors or windows, just a stone floor and stone walls. Harry had felt around numerous times, more out of boredom than any hope of discovering some.
He felt he was going mad. He saw and heard no one and nothing. His mouth was dry with thirst and his stomach ached with hunger. If Harry hadn't spoken to Snape that first day – or was it night? – he would have thought he was dead.
Death would have been better, Harry thought to himself for the hundredth time.
It definitely would have been better than the confusion Harry felt. After seeing Snape's memories, he had been convinced Snape had been on the good side all along.
Then Snape had to go and pull that stunt! Harry hissed to himself in frustration. Nothing made sense.
Even if Snape showed Voldemort a way to get his horcrux out, what then? Harry wouldn't need to die, but Harry couldn't see how he could escape either. Voldemort's fortress looked foolproof. No matter how Harry looked at it, the outcome was the same.
Crack!
Harry jumped up at the sound of apparation, squinting through the darkness. There was a murmured word and a bright light filled the room, causing Harry to cover his eyes in pain.
"Accommodation not to your liking, Potter?"
Harry opened his eyes upon hearing Voldemort's voice.
"You deserve worse… far worse. To think you almost brought my destruction by my own hand. Crucio!"
Harry just managed to dodge the curse, and Voldemort snarled wordlessly. Thankfully, Snape appeared just as Voldemort raised his wand again.
"Everything is ready, My Lord," Snape said, and almost immediately a Death Eater appeared with a crack, holding vials.
Harry's heart hammered painfully in his chest. What was going on?
"Well done, Severus," Voldemort said, gesturing to the Death Eater.
Voldemort turned to Harry, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Harry waited, hoping Voldemort would say something that could Harry a clue of the situation, but Voldemort simply pointed his wand at Harry.
There was a flash of blue light and Harry's muscles froze.
"The potion, Avery," Voldemort whispered, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
Harry could only watch as Avery came forward with the potion, his heart racing with fear, praying that Snape would do something — anything.
But the potion was pouring down his throat and it felt like something was trying to tear out his chest, and through the ringing in his ears Harry could hear Voldemort chanting. Harry watched through blurry eyes as the room began spinning until he thought he would get sick from the sensation, then all went dark.
The next time Harry awoke, it was to the sight of Snape watching him thoughtfully. He stood up angrily, determined to get answers.
His legs folded under him, unable to stand his weight. Harry glared up at Snape, who was looking at him with what could almost be called pity. However, that only made Harry angrier.
"Don't you dare pity me!"
The words felt like sandpaper and his voice was hoarse, but to his satisfaction, the pity was replaced with a scowl.
"You are not in a position to make demands, Potter," Snape sneered.
"And who's fault is that?" Harry retorted.
"For your benefit," Snape said. "You would do well to thank me."
" Thank you." Harry laughed mirthlessly. "I will thank you when I see the benefit you keep on mentioning, Snape."
"You would have preferred to house the Dark Lord's soul for eternity?" Snape raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.
Harry's heart skipped a beat. Was it true?
Before he could confirm, a door appeared and Avery came in, holding a lantern.
Ignoring Snape's presence, he grabbed Harry and hauled him up. Harry struggled feebly but Avery pulled him along, not seeming to notice.
"The Dark Lord commands your presence, Snape," Avery threw back over his shoulder as they went out the door.
The corridor was as dark as the room, with only the lantern guiding their way. The pathslanted up slightly, with many twists and turns, and Harry stumbled on the uneven floor. They passed many identical doors in the wall.
After a long while, portraits replaced the doors, cool eyes following them as Avery continued pulling him up the corridor, not breaking his pace.
Harry was struggling to breathe before Avery finally stopped in front of a door. He tapped the handle with the wand and the door opened into a cavernous room, lighted with thousands of candles. At the far end was a majestic throne, empty. Elegant tapestries decorated the wall, embroidered with delicate designs. The floor was made of dark marble, and their footsteps echoed as they walked across it.
Against the wall on each side stood silent figures, their eyes gleaming from eye holes in their masks. Harry resolutely ignored them, keeping his eyes on the throne instead.
Then a dark mass came from behind, flying past him to the throne before he could blink. Before his eyes it took form, and hundreds of Death Eaters fell on their knees, echoes of 'My Lord' murmured with reverence filling the room.
It was Voldemort. He gave an air of authority, drawing all attention to him. His eyes were fixated on Harry, watching as they advanced through the room.
The walk seemed to take forever and yet in no time they had reached Voldemort, and Avery released his hold to take his place. Harry crumpled to the floor without the support, but determinedly looked up at Voldemort, hiding his fear. He noticed Snape floating through the wall behind Voldemort.
"Soon you will be dead, Harry, and none will dare deny my power. But first, an explanation," Voldemort said, his mouth upturned in a lip less smile. His gaze moved from Harry to sweep his followers. "I can hear your whispers… your doubts. How could Harry Potter contain a piece of the Dark Lord's soul? Perhaps the rumours were true… perhaps the Dark Lord was the weaker wizard after all…"
The hair on Harry's arms raised as the silence grew tense.
"I can understand your lack of certainty… this boy has been a thorn in our side for years, after all. And yet… have I not proven time and time again my superior power? Have I not duelled Dumbledore to a standstill… taken his precious school from within his grasp? And still, have I not explained adequately why I have not been able to kill Harry Potter numerous times?"
Voldemort's voice took an impossibly more dangerous tone, and despite himself, Harry shivered. Snape made a strange movement as if to say something, but remained silent, watching.
"And so, I will explain it again," Voldemort continued. "For the last time, so there remain no doubts.
"It ties back, as it always does, to your Lord's immortality. This boy whom you call your Lord's weakness has been safeguarding his enemy's soul for the majority of his life. The quintessential irony, a ruse not found in history."
Voldemort looked down at him again, and Harry knew his time was up.
"And with that, Harry Potter, you have aided me. As a repayment, I will grant you a quick, merciful death."
Then everything happened at once.
Snape shouted, "Peeves, now–" just as Voldemort raised his wand, casting the killing curse. Harry instinctively tried to dodge, looking up at just in time to see some kind of liquid fall on him. There was a hook behind his navel and the room disappeared.
Harry landed on cool tiles with a bump that took his breath away, and there were hands grabbing at him, familiar voices shouting.
"Harry!"
"Where did he come from?"
"Is he okay? Why isn't he moving?"
Thankfully Mrs. Weasley's loud voice shut out the rest.
"QUIET! Give him space!"
Gentle hands helped him up.
"Come on, Harry dear, up you get. I imagine you're feeling a bit peaky, nothing a good meal and some rest won't cure… Ron, pass me a towel… Ginny, there's some leftover broth in the kitchen."
Before Harry knew it, Mrs Weasley had fed him some soup and tucked him in. Harry, feeling too tired to be embarrassed, looked up at her in a daze as she wiped his face with a wet towel. Then his eyes closed and he fell asleep, feeling comfortable for the first time in days.
When Harry next awoke, it took him a few moments to remember what had happened. It felt good to not be too weak to sit up. He could just see the sunrise from a low window. He felt he had never seen a more beautiful sight.
His thoughts filled with events of the past week, the thought of Snape at the forefront.
He had been speaking the truth after all, there had been a plan, and one to his benefit too. But what a plan it was. Harry wasn't sure he'd have done the same, if he had been in Snape's place. But then, Harry wasn't Snape. Good thing too, as his plans never seemed to work, and Snape seemed to thrive on plans.
Just then Harry spotted the almost invisible form of Snape, sitting directly in a patch of sunlight. It was maybe for this reason it took him so long to spot him.
"Awake at last, Potter?"
Harry just nodded, feeling too comfortable to answer. He looked away from Snape to look at the sunrise again. He could still feel Snape's gaze on him, but he payed it no attention.
After a long while, Snape spoke again.
"Satisfied?"
The word almost felt like an echo of Harry's thoughts. He peeled his eyes from the sunrise to look at Snape again.
"Thank you," Harry said, surprisingly not reluctantly.
Snape inclined his head.
A thought occurred to Harry. "What happened to Voldemort?"
"The killing curse reflected back at him. He is dead."
Harry nodded. For all that Harry had been working towards for what felt like his whole life, it felt strangely anticlimactic.
Snape opened his mouth, then hesitated. "Potter… for what it's worth, I truly am sorry."
Harry understood that the apology was for more than the past week.
"I understand, Professor," and he really meant it.
It looked as if a great weight had lifted off Snape's shoulders, and with a half smile, he faded away.
The End