57. Nothing I've become
I abandoned this love and laid it to rest
And now I'm one of the forgotten
I'm not, I'm not myself
Feel like I'm someone else
Fallen and faceless
So hollow, hollow inside*
Hermione stopped writing and looked out the window at the snow falling heavily. She felt like it was snowing harder and harder, and although she couldn't see beyond a few meters, the huge, stuck together patches of snow that were constantly emerging from the darkness and hitting the window made her feel vaguely uneasy. As if at any moment something much more dangerous could emerge from this darkness, and these giant snowflakes were some kind of prelude. An announcement of the war that still hung over the castle and could reach it with its cold, bloody fingers at any moment.
She shook her head and closed her eyes.
No, it's just snow. She's definitely been too sensitive lately.
She looked at Ron, who was sleeping with his head on the parchment next to her. The last lines of text were completely blurry and she was already imagining what his cheek would look like when he woke up. Just the thought of his disheveled hair and the blush of embarrassment on his cheeks as he clumsily tried to wipe the ink from his face made her heart warm. He was always so carefree. There seemed to be nothing that could make him worry and have dark thoughts that would consume him from the inside. He was the only one who could make her forget about them sometimes and stop worrying about the problems that seemed to have no end, at least for a moment. Sometimes she felt like she was overreacting, that she shouldn't worry so much, but she couldn't stop worrying. She couldn't just wave her hand and say to herself 'it'll be okay.' He could do it. He did this all the time. He lived in his own world where there were no problems, at least not ones that couldn't be solved by simply waiting for them to be solved by themselves. It was a real gift. Sometimes she found herself daydreaming about how she would give up half of her knowledge for such a gift. But then he would just smile at her or do something absolutely stupid and she knew that 'it would be okay.' That if he's so carefree, it's definitely not as bad as she thinks and they certainly still have a long future ahead of them, even if the war were to knock on the castle gates in a moment… and that Harry will definitely find some way to defeat Voldemort.
Ah, Harry...
She looked at the large clock hanging on the wall. The pendulum was swinging rhythmically, dividing time into the tiny, even pieces. It was almost midnight. He was supposed to be back in a moment. But that moment had already passed about three hours ago.
She tried not to worry, but she couldn't. She had seen how he had been acting all day. Suddenly he went from completely depressed to absolutely... well, what? At first he was smiling to himself, but then sadness appeared on his face. He looked as if he didn't know where he was or what to do. She watched him carefully as he was staring at the wall during the lessons, smiling a little absentmindedly and his thoughts wandering somewhere far away. And the worst thing was that she probably guessed where he was wandering with them...
She couldn't get over the revelations she had discovered. She just couldn't. Just the thought that Harry - the Harry she had known since she was a child - was- God, it was hard for her to even think about it! That he was in love with the teacher he had hated for as long as she could remember. The thought alone made her sick, her skin crawled and something heavy settled at the bottom of her stomach. It was so abstract, so illogical... How could he? How could he fall in love with him? It was Snape...
No, she has to stop. She's starting to think like Ron again.
It wasn't even about the fact that Snape was... Snape, that he was their teacher, that he was more than twice Harry's age. The point was that he was... dangerous. That he could hurt Harry, use him for his own unknown purpose, he could do something to him that would destroy him, he could-
She closed her eyes, leaned her elbows on the table and hid her face in her hands, sighing deeply.
He could do all these things, but he won't necessarily do them. Perhaps he feels something for Harry too...
As soon as she learned the truth, she began to watch Snape closely. Many glances and strange behaviors that had previously seemed incomprehensible to her finally made sense. She remembered them. And she remembered the way Snape looked at Harry, how he followed him with his gaze in every possible situation, as if he couldn't stop himself from doing so. As if he had some inner need, and that need included Harry's presence, his closeness. Now that she knew what to look at, she could see it all. And when they accidentally passed each other in the corridor... Snape looked as if he had been hit by a stunning spell. He only looked at Harry, he saw no one else. Sometimes she had the impression that when he passed by, it was only through sheer force of will that he restrained himself from touching him, pulling him closer, snatching him… but he always just clenched his hands into fists and hid them in the pockets of his large black robe.
This is not the behavior of someone who hates.
And that's exactly what she told Harry in the library. She couldn't watch him suffer. She couldn't bear to see his blindness either, but she couldn't take away his hope. Because she remembered how happy Harry was when he returned to the Common Room in the evenings. She had never seen such a light in his eyes before or since. She knew he was in love. It was visible at first glance. He was madly in love. But she would never have expected that the object of his affection and the reason for such happiness... could be Snape. It just contradicted each other. And despite everything, she still couldn't understand it. Because what could this heartless, withdrawn man give him? What could he possibly offer him? What made Harry go completely crazy about him? What was so special about him?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the rustle of a painting moving away. She immediately looked toward the entrance, but instead of Harry, she saw Professor McGonagall entering the Common Room.
One look at the teacher's face was enough for Hermione to feel a cold wave of fear.
As Hermione was walking down the dark corridor, it seemed that the way to the hospital wing was much longer than usual. She had to hold back very hard not to overtake the teacher and simply break into a run. Ron was already having trouble keeping up with them and had to constantly run to not be left behind. Neither of them spoke.
From the few sentences that McGonagall told them, it appeared that Harry had been found by Hagrid on the grounds near the castle several minutes ago. He was frozen and chilled almost to the point of losing the consciousness. He barely made any contact when Hagrid took him from there, and he hadn't said a word to anyone since he got to the hospital. She also admitted that she was even afraid that someone might have cast Imperius on him, but she performed a magic check and found nothing.
Hermione's heart was beating faster and faster as they approached the hospital, she could already see its huge steel doors... and suddenly the door opened and Madam Pomfrey ran out.
"Oh, Minerva, it's so good that you're here!" she exclaimed in panic. "I don't know what happened! I only went out for a moment to prepare some medicine for him, and when I returned, the bed was empty. Potter is gone!"
Hermione felt her heart sink into the stomach. Professor McGonagall's eyes widened.
"We must search the castle immediately! He couldn't have gone far in this condition! Are you sure he's not in the hospital wing?"
Pomfrey nodded vigorously.
"I searched everything, checked every corner. He's nowhere to be found."
Hermione had never seen her so terrified. The nurse was known for being able to keep her cool in any situation. Fractures, strange deformations, fatal wounds, effects of the curses... nothing could disturb her, but a patient suddenly disappearing was a completely different matter. Her knowledge and experience were of no use here.
"We have to inform all the teachers, call the ghosts and the house elves. We need to find him as quickly as possible! By the gods, a barely conscious student couldn't just disappear from the castle. He must be somewhere."
"I know where he is!" Hermione suddenly shouted. Both women looked at her in surprise. "I mean... I guess. Come on, Ron." She grabbed the completely confused boy's hand and started dragging him. "We're going to look-" She stopped suddenly, hearing a strange sound. Some regular... tapping coming from one of the side corridors.
All four of them turned that way. The sound got closer and after a while, Harry emerged from around the corner of the corridor. He was walking barefoot on the stone floor, wearing hospital pajamas, with his head down and his eyes focused on the floor.
Hermione almost fell to the ground with relief, but the relief was only momentary, because as he came closer and the light from the torch on the wall fell on his face, her stomach turned upside down.
Because this wasn't the same Harry she had seen just a few hours ago. He looked as if he had gone through hell in that short time. His face was pale and sunken. There were dark circles under his eyes, and even though she couldn't see them because they were looking down, they seemed completely expressionless. Dead.
"Potter," Professor McGonagall finally choked out as Harry came closer to them. "You shouldn't get up and wander around the castle alone like this. We clearly told you to stay in bed."
"Man, we were all worried about you," Ron grumbled, staring at Harry with a mixture of fear and relief.
"How could you make us so afraid?" Madam Pomfrey said indignantly. "Disappearing without any notice! And barefoot too! The floor is cold as ice! You almost froze there, and now-"
"I had to do something." Harry said it extremely quietly, but in such a voice that even Hermione felt chills. Madam Pomfrey immediately fell silent.
Harry walked past them without even sparing them a glance before disappearing through the hospital doors.
Hermione swallowed, even though she felt like she was swallowing nails. She exchanged glances with Professor McGonagall and followed Harry. She slowly entered the hospital, hearing Ron's and Professor McGonagall's footsteps behind her, and the quiet muttering of Madam Pomfrey, who was still reeling from her incredulous indignation.
Harry was getting on the bed. He lay down with his back to them and covered himself with the blanket up to his chin. Hermione looked at Ron, who shrugged in response. Well, that's it for his support.
"Stay with him," Professor McGonagall said in a whisper, "and I'll go get the Headmaster." After these words, she turned around and headed to the exit.
"And I'll go finish preparing the medicine," Madam Pomfrey announced, heading towards her office. "Just keep an eye on him so he doesn't disappear again." She cast an indignant glance at the slim figure lying on the bed and disappeared through the door on the other side of the room.
Hermione sighed and slowly walked over to Harry's bed. She pulled up a chair and sat down, placing her hands on her knees and not really knowing what to do. Ron was standing behind her - a living monument of anxiety and confusion. She had so many questions, but she couldn't say a word. Something in Harry changed. She sensed it very clearly and was afraid of this change.
"How are you feeling, man?" Ron spoke first, saving her from breaking the heavy silence hanging in the air because she still didn't know what was hidden there.
"I'm alive, as you can see," Harry replied. His voice was cold. She had known him for six years, but she had never heard a tone like that before. Moreover, she had the impression that he didn't want to see them at all, that he would like to throw them both out of here.
"Talk to us," she said quietly. "We were worried about you. Professor McGonagall said that-"
"I didn't ask you to worry. I can handle it perfectly well on my own."
Hermione bit her lip. "What's wrong with you?"
"And why do you think anything is wrong?" he asked, turning around, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at her.
Hermione held her breath. The eyes. Harry's eyes... were completely cold. And the face... was so hollow, as if all emotion had been sucked out of him. As if there, in the cold where he almost froze, his heart froze too. It was filled with ice to the brim.
"Why? I can see that something is wrong," she said, almost tearfully. "Hagrid found you on the grounds. You almost froze there and-"
"Don't be naive," Harry interrupted. "I couldn't have frozen somewhere on the grounds. My destiny is completely different. I am the Chosen One after all." He said the word with such contempt in his voice that Hermione winced. "Everyone huffs and puffs on me so that I can live to make the duel with Voldemort. I can't die now. Not yet."
"Stop saying such nonsense!" Ron interjected. "Have you completely lost your mind? I see your brain has frozen in this cold. How can you say such things?"
"I can, because it's the truth," Harry replied calmly. "When I complete this great mission for which I was born, maybe then you will all finally leave me alone."
"You know, if you want to be alone so much, I can grant your wish right away." An anger appeared in Ron's voice.
"Stop it, Ron," Hermione interjected, trying to stop the wagon of anger rolling faster and faster.
"I won't stop until he stops treating us like his enemies," the Gryffindor growled.
"Harry just needs some rest." It was the only explanation she could offer him at the moment, hoping he would take the bait and calm down. She was already shaking so much inside with anxiety that she had the impression that in a moment she would fall to pieces.
She looked straight into the narrowed green eyes that she knew so well, but which seemed completely foreign to her now, and swallowed.
"Harry, Professor Dumbledore will be here soon. Maybe you should talk to him about... some things."
To her surprise, the eyes staring at her became even more icy.
"Don't ever talk about him in my presence again. I don't want anything to do with him and if I find out that you went to him and told him anything... you will cease to exist for me. Entirely."
"How can you talk to her like that?" Ron hissed before the blade of his words could strike her in the heart. "We've always been on your side, no matter what, and now you're trying to blackmail us just because we're worried about you?"
"I already told you I didn't ask you to do it," Harry replied, shifting his gaze to Ron, who was red with anger.
"Great! So we're not-"
"Gods, what are those screams?" Madam Pomfrey interrupted them, appearing like a ghost with a bottle of potion in her hand. She glared at Ron and Hermione. "You were only supposed to keep an eye on him, not torment him. The boy needs rest. If I had known it would end like this, I would have kicked you out a long time ago and asked Professor McGonagall to sit with him. Now get out of here, if you don't want me to take away your points."
Ron turned on his heel and moved toward the door, but Hermione felt like she couldn't move. She was too shocked and scared. but slowly, with the nurse glaring at her, she got up from the chair and followed Ron.
Harry… wasn't acting like Harry. Something happened to him. Something very bad. And it was Snape's fault. She was as sure of this as she was of the year Hogwarts was founded. And it also had something to do with Dumbledore, because Harry suddenly completely changed his attitude toward the Headmaster. And she couldn't tell anyone about it and she felt so- so-
She furtively wiped away her tears as she followed Ron through the dark corridors of the castle.
Harry demanded the impossible, telling her to not worry about him. He was her dearest friend. They were always together, even in the most difficult moments. She can't leave him, especially now that he's clearly decided to push away everyone who cared about him.
But he won't be able to push her away. He can try as much as he wants, but no matter what he does, he won't succeed.
She couldn't sleep all night. Her mind was clouded with heavy, black clouds of thoughts. She didn't think she had ever been as worried about Harry as she was now in her life. She had always been able to understand his behavior, but this time was completely different. He turned into a stranger. Someone she didn't know at all.
She managed to take a nap only in the morning. Because of this, she got up later than usual and when she went down to the Common Room, most of the students were already up. That's why she only noticed Harry sitting on the couch in front of the fire when she scanned the room for Ron.
Her heart immediately dropped to her stomach. She carefully approached the couch and walked around it. Harry was sitting motionless, the elbows on his knees, the hands clasped, the eyes focused on the flames. The firelight reflecting off his glasses was the only sign of life on his face, which now, in the daylight, seemed even more still and expressionless than before.
She hesitantly sat down next to him, completely unsure of what to say or do.
"Shouldn't you be in the hospital, Harry?" she asked gently.
"No," was the only answer she got.
"Madam Pomfrey let you go?"
"No."
"So how-?"
"I just got up and left. No one is going to tell me what to do," Harry said, never taking his eyes off the flames and never looking at Hermione. Only now did she notice the dark circles under his eyes. It seemed like he hadn't slept all night either."
"How do you feel?" She knew it was a difficult question, but she had to ask it.
"Like never before."
What kind of answer was that?
"Hello to you both!"
Hermione almost jumped when Ginny's smiling face appeared next to her. The girl jumped over the backrest and sat next to her on the couch.
"Why do you look so sad? Today is Friday, just a few more hours of torture and tomorrow is the weekend, which means the first Quidditch training! I can't wait. What about you, Harry?"
"I won't play on the team anymore," the boy replied calmly. Ginny looked at him in bewilderment, but then she laughed.
"It wasn't a good joke."
"This is not a joke at all." Harry turned his head and stared at her coldly. "We're at war and I have a job to do. Everyone expects me to defeat Voldemort, not to win the Quidditch Cup. Flying on the brooms and chasing the flying balls is now the least important thing. I don't think I can defeat Voldemort by hitting him between the eyes with the Golden Snitch."
Ginny's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as if she had just heard the worst blasphemy of her life.
"Harry isn't feeling well today," Hermione quickly interjected, seeing Ginny's expression. She turned her head to her and with her facial expression suggested that she should leave. She really didn't want everyone to think Harry was crazy, which is exactly how he was behaving.
"Hi," Ron grumbled, stopping behind them.
"Oh, Ron." Hermione turned to him with a despairing smile. "You're finally here. Let's go for breakfast." She jumped up from the couch, dragging a still shocked Ginny with her, but Harry didn't move. After a few steps, Hermione turned to him. "Come on, Harry."
The boy stood up slowly and slung his bag over his shoulder.
"I'm not going to breakfast. I'm going to the lessons."
"But the lessons don't start until breakfast ends."
Harry looked at her with indifference and said:
"Then I'll be first." Then he passed the three of them and walked calmly towards the portrait of the Fat Lady.
Hermione and Ron looked at each other over Ginny's head, capturing everything they wanted to say in that look - a total helplessness.
Harry had been acting the same way all day. He was silent or replied half-assed. Or he was just staring into space, like he was now.
Even though the Great Hall was buzzing, Harry seemed completely disconnected from it. He was sitting motionless over his empty plate, looking around at the students laughing, deep in conversation, or eating their lunch. He looked and acted like a robot. As if his only life function was breathing. As if he didn't exist.
Hermione watched him, feeling an increasing weight pressing down on her heart. It was still a miracle that he came to lunch at all, even though he touched absolutely nothing and did not respond at all to her persuasions. Ron was seating nearby, eating his lunch in silence and flicking through the Daily Prophet, which she hadn't even looked at, too busy worrying about Harry.
"Oh, there was another attack," he said between bites. "Merlin..." He stopped eating, staring at the text with wide eyes. "They killed twenty-two people, including seven children..."
Hermione stopped watching Harry and moved closer to Ron, shocked by the revelations. But she quickly regretted doing so, as the descriptions of the ways in which these people were murdered took away all her appetite and made her stomach clench with disgust and horror.
"Oh god... it's horrible... disgusting..."
"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said. They both stopped reading and looked at him in surprise. "We are at war. It's normal that there are victims. And there will be even more of them." He said it in such a neutral tone, as if he was talking about the weather and convincing them that they couldn't help it if it rained. But this was about human life!
"Do you think this is normal?" There was genuine disbelief in Ron's voice. "Then why don't I read to you how those lousy Death Eaters killed a two-year-old Muggle girl?"
"Death Eaters are perfect murderers," Harry replied calmly. "That's how they were trained - to torture, to inflict pain, to hurt and kill without blinking an eye. They have no feelings. They don't know what mercy is. Voldemort does not fill his ranks with fools. They are extremely intelligent and will work tirelessly to achieve their goals. You can't stop them. And you will never be able to change them. You will never arouse even a spark of pity in them."
Ron seemed to be on the verge of exploding.
"Are you completely crazy? You talk like you admire them! I don't intend to arouse pity in them at all! If I could, I would kill everyone!"
"Before you could even raise your wand, they would have already planned five moves ahead. They are masters of deception and planning. They will always be a few steps ahead of you." There wasn't even a hint of emotion in Harry's voice.
"I don't care!" Ron was almost screaming. "We can't sit on our hands and wait for all Muggle-borns to be murdered. We have to find a way to do to them what they are doing to these innocent people!"
"And you will become just like them. Every murder destroys the soul. It deprives you of all the feelings. It sucks out your emotions. They kill constantly, so after a while there is nothing left in them. They stop noticing the difference between good and evil and that's why you don't stand a chance against them. They will take advantage of your every weakness. You have feelings, you have loved ones. They don't care about anyone or anything. And therein lies their advantage." Harry's voice was as cold as his gaze. "All you have to do is even think about saving anyone, all you have to do is hesitate even for a moment, and they will immediately use it against you. While you worry about your loved ones, they will kill them all. And then they will kill you."
"Shut up!"
"Ron, calm down!" Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. "Harry, please stop-" Her words were interrupted by the screech of a black owl that suddenly landed between them. It had ruffled feathers and a message tied to its leg.
Hermione looked at the owl in surprise.
Post? At this time?
Harry quickly reached out his hand and untied the note from the owl's leg, which immediately flew up into the air, screeching shrilly as if it wanted to loudly complain about something.
Harry unrolled the note and quickly scanned it, and although his expression didn't change, there was a strange pallor on his face.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, watching him with growing concern. "What happ-?" She couldn't finish, because Harry got up and slowly, without a word, left the Great Hall.
But the anxiety did not want to leave the Gryffindor's heart, and now, after this strange event, it intensified even more.
Luckily, Harry showed up for the next lesson.
It took some effort, but in the end she made Ron promise that he would try to put up with Harry's behavior. She explained to him that Harry needed time, that something bad had happened to him and that he needed their support now, not adding fuel to the fire. And for the rest of the day, Ron really tried not to comment on his friend's behavior, even though he absolutely didn't understand it and it was certainly hard for him. But certainly not as hard as it was for her when she looked at Harry, knowing that she couldn't help him, that she couldn't do anything that would break him out of his stupor.
She watched him very carefully, more and more carefully every moment, because she knew that the last lesson of the day was Potions. And that meant Harry would meet Snape. He will meet with the person who most likely caused his condition. But as the Potions lesson approached, neither Harry's expression nor his demeanor changed at all. He should show some nervousness, some fear, anger, anything. But it was Hermione who was getting more and more nervous, while Harry... well... he looked like he didn't care at all.
As they were sitting in the classroom waiting for Snape to arrive, he was simply staring into space, his face completely devoid of any emotion.
Finally, the doorknob moved and Hermione's heart leapt into her throat as the heavy gates slowly opened to reveal... Professor McGonagall.
A murmur of disbelieving whispers spread through the classroom. The students looked at each other, completely surprised by the sudden appearance of the Gryffindor's Head.
The teacher walked over to Snape's black desk and shushed the students with a wave of her hand.
"I'm sorry, but due to Professor Snape's absence, there will be no Potions lesson today."
The noise grew louder. The students began to whisper among themselves, unable to believe what they heard. For the first time in history, Snape did not show up for class!
Hermione quickly looked at Harry. He had his head down and his eyes focused on the dark desk. He looked like he was thinking hard about something.
"BUT that doesn't mean," McGonagall raised her voice to break through the din that had erupted, "that you will miss your classes." You will write a three-foot-long essay on Pain-killing Potions till Monday, detailed information can be found in your textbooks, pages two hundred sixty-five to two hundred eighty-ninth. And now-"
"Professor..." Pansy raised her hand, interrupting the teacher's speech.
"Yes? What is it, Miss Parkinson?"
"What happened to Professor Snape?"
A shadow passed over McGonagall's face.
"Professor Snape is currently... unable to teach."
After these words, there was an even louder noise in the class. The students seemed to have completely forgotten about the teacher's presence, they were so absorbed in these revelations.
Hermione looked at Harry again. The boy was now staring at Professor McGonagall. His eyebrows were furrowed.
"And NOW, if you would just let me finish-" The students fell silent for a moment "-then I would like to announce the end of classes. You can pack up and leave the classroom, but only if you remain quiet and do not disturb other students.
The joy of having historically avoided Potions seemed to replace the earlier shock. The students jumped out of their seats as soon as the door closed behind the teacher and began to pack quickly. Snippets of their conversations reached Hermione's ears:
"What do you think happened to Snape?"
"Who cares?"
"Maybe he was finally poisoned by his own venom?"
"Or maybe he got tangled in his cape while coming down the stairs and broke his legs?"
"Haha, that was a good one! My bet is that someone finally came to their senses and kicked him out of school."
"No, that would be too beautiful..."
"You can always have dreams."
"Hahaha."
The classroom slowly emptied.
Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione was finishing packing when she saw Harry decisively throw his bag over his shoulder and head for the exit. She quickly threw the rest of her supplies into her bag and ran after him, hearing Ron's footsteps following her. When they finally caught up with him, Harry swerved sharply.
"Where are you going?" she shouted, stopping.
"I need to check something," Harry replied, disappearing into one of the side corridors.
She hesitated to follow him, but eventually decided not to. Harry obviously didn't want this. Besides, she didn't know the layout of the dungeons very well. She didn't come here very often. She turned with a sigh and looked at Ron, who was staring at his retreating friend's back.
"I'm telling you, someone switched him. This isn't Harry. It can't be Harry," he said, biting his lip. Hermione walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled close to him.
"Apparently we didn't know him as well as we thought," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.
"What do you think happened to Snape? It was the first time he didn't come to class. Not that I'm not happy, but this is all kind of... weird."
Hermione was silent for a moment. When McGonagall told them this, she broke into a cold sweat. She didn't really know what to think about it, although Snape's absence did shed some light on the situation. Maybe... maybe Harry is behaving this way not because of Snape, but because... something happened to Snape. Something very bad. For the moment she couldn't find a better explanation.
Oh, she wanted to know the truth so badly... maybe then she could... she could... maybe if she understood, she could help him somehow?
"I hope it's nothing bad," she replied quietly and sighed heavily. She really hoped so.
The moon was still shining exceptionally brightly, even though in the east the sky was already starting to change color, and the velvet black was slowly turning into an inky navy blue. Here, far to the south, the winter was much less severe than in northern Scotland, leaving behind only a few white sheets here and there - the last traces of its reign.
Something incredibly long was gliding between them. The moon's rays were reflected in the thousands of scales covering Nagini's back as she glided through the damp, dead grass. She was heading toward a huge estate, lying in the center of a currently neglected, but certainly wonderful garden until recently.
She slipped through the stumps of the hedges, around the dirty, weed-filled pond, and toward a small gap at the base of the wall. She slipped into a dark tunnel, heading downwards, and after some time she emerged from a similar gap in a large, dark room. She began to crawl over the uneven, cold stones, leaving a wet trail behind her, and at some point a black, floor-length robe appeared in her field of vision. She slowed down and rubbed against the robe like a cat demanding to be petted.
A long, ghostly pale hand touched her back, caressing her skin.
"Have you returned from the hunt, my dear?" asked a high, cold voice, using her own language.
The snake hissed and wrapped herself around the outstretched hand, climbing onto her master's shoulders.
Voldemort straightened up and stroked Nagini once again.
"You were wasting your strength unnecessarily. When I'm done with him, you'll have a wonderful feast."
His gaze moved toward the center of the room. A figure dressed in black was lying on the stone floor. It was difficult to distinguish any shape among the blood-soaked, voluminous robes, cut in so many places that they would be of no use anymore. The cuts revealed pale skin with dried traces of blood mixing with newly opened wounds. In some places the skin was black, as if something had burned it. The streams of dark ichor were flowing between the stone slabs of the floor on which the figure was lying, forming a large puddle.
The figure didn't seem to be breathing. It looked like there was nothing left in this battered body that could be called life.
Voldemort raised his wand, preparing to cast another curse.
"We have to wake him up. We can't let him die unconscious, do you agree?"
An ice was burning in Voldemort's red eyes, but the moment he opened his mouth to cast the spell, a loud knock echoed in the room.
Voldemort lowered his wand and glared at the door with fury.
"I clearly ordered not to be disturbed!" he hissed as the door opened carefully and Lucius Malfoy entered the room.
"Forgive me, my Lord," he rasped, bowing. "But it's very urgent. The message has just arrived. To you, my Lord. The sender wrote that it should be delivered immediately, otherwise you will become indescribably furious."
Voldemort lowered his wand and narrowed his eyes.
"Give me that." He held out his hand.
Lucius walked up quickly and handed him the message before retreating backwards, bowing. He briefly glanced at the figure lying on the floor, and triumph and satisfaction flashed in his eyes.
As the door closed, Voldemort picked up the envelope and looked at it. It was addressed to Lucius Malfoy, Malfoy's Manor, but in huge, standing out letters it read: For the Hands of the Dark Lord Only. Written underneath in smaller letters was a threat of what might happen to anyone who didn't deliver this message immediately. The envelope was sealed. Voldemort turned it over in his hand.
"Do you see this, Nagini? Who would have the nerve to send me a letter?"
Voldemort's eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity. He broke the seal, took the parchment from the envelope and unfolded it. His eyes moved over the text for a few moments, and when they finished… a triumph appeared on his cold face. His lips stretched into a terrifying smile of joy, and the flame of victory lit in his eyes.
He turned his gaze to the figure lying on the floor.
"I underestimated you, Severus." He lowered his hand with the letter and slowly approached the unconscious man. He pushed him with his foot, turning him onto his back. The black hair soaked with blood stuck to the corpse-pale, sunken face, frozen in pain. He leaned over him and ran the tip of his wand along the deep cut on his cheek. "You did well, Ssseverusss. Perfect. You have proven once again that you are one of my best servants."
He stopped his wand over the man's heart, closed his eyes and began to cast long, incomprehensible spells. A yellowish glow flowed from his wand, permeating the battered body and slowly closing the still open wounds. The blood flowing on the floor began to recede and flow back into the cuts on his skin.
It took a long time. It ended only with the first rays of sunlight knocking on the windows of Malfoy's Manor and announcing that the Friday morning had just begun.
A voice screaming from within
Begging just to feel again
Can't find who I am without you near me
I'd give anything to live
Cause without you I don't exist
Your the only one who saves me from myself
I abandoned this love and laid it to rest
And now I'm one of the forgotten
I'm not, I'm not myself
Feel like I'm someone else
Fallen and faceless
So hollow, hollow inside
A part of me is dead
I need you to live again
Can you replace this
I'm hollow, hollow and faceless
Shadows growing in my mind
Ones I just can't leave behind
I'm not strong enough to pay this ransom
One more monster crawled inside
But I swear I saw it die
Can you save me from the nothing I've become?*
* "Faceless" by Red
