Chapter 11: Reducto

"Do you not know who I am?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt gazed up at the masked death eater who stood before him, black robes cacked with dust and grim. He had suspected the identity of the young wizard ever since he had arrived on the scene. He wasn't sure if it had been the cruel flicker in the dark green eyes that looked out at him from behind the mask or the almost arrogant way that boy held himself. But regardless, he'd recognised the difference between a normal Death Eater and this one instantly.

This Death Eater was powerful and extremely dangerous; his casual use of powerful dark magic was a testament to that. Yet Kingsley hadn't anticipated the fabled dark servant to be so young. When the death eater had first spoken, it was with the voice of a teenager, not that of a grown man as Kingsley had expected. This realisation was what had made the auror hesitant to continue his attack against the Death Eater.

You-know-who was now recruiting children and sending them out to fight for him…to kill. A flicker of sadness crossed Kingsley's face as he thought about all of the young lives that would be lost. At last, he answered quietly,

"You are the one they call the dark servant. But it does not matter what they call you, for you are still just a child. If you would let me help-"

"I don't need help," the boy spat out, "And I am not a child."

Kingsley did not respond but felt his concern for the young Death Eater grow with each passing moment. The teenager had clearly exhausted himself and his wand arm was trembling badly.

Magical exhaustion? Effects of dark magic? Fear?

"I will let you live…for now," the boy had begun to speak again, "But I will come back for you and you will learn to fear me just as much as my father."

This statement caused Kingsley's breath to catch in his throat. The last three words hung heavily in the air as the auror felt shock and horror flood his veins. His mind suddenly felt numb as he watched the young wizard stumble away from him. When the teenager was several metres away, he called back,

"Oh, and please give my regards to Severus…let him know that his time has almost run out."

Then, with a loud crack, the boy disapparated away leaving Kingsley still reeling from the revelation…You-know-who had an heir…a son.

A teenage son who he uses as an assassin, the auror thought, still staring at the spot where the dark servant had just been, How did the ministry never find out after all these years? How did we not know?

The biting pain that radiated from his broken legs had faded into the background as a million thoughts now began to run through Kingsley's mind. He needed to alert Dumbledore and the ministry of this information as quickly as possible. The minister would also want to be informed; he felt sure of that. There would be a media frenzy and no doubt a manhunt for the teen would soon follow. Kingsley couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for the boy's lifeless body to be brought into the department. The young wizard had, effectively, just signed his death warrant.

But there was something else prickling in the back of Kingsley's mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that You-know-who would also not be anticipating the news of his heir leaking out. Something was telling him that the boy would be in a world of trouble when his father found out what he had just let slip. Yet, Kingsley couldn't bring himself to enjoy that thought, as he would have done for other Death Eaters. Instead, he felt incredibly sad and worried for the future of the young wizard.

"Kingsley!"

The auror's head snapped up at the loud yell. Instantly, he felt a flicker of relief spread across his body. He had forgotten that he had called for extra backup moments before the dark servant had blasted them with the last dark curse. He smiled faintly as he noticed that an order member was among the flood of aurors who had just apparated in. Good. Now he could get the news to Dumbledore before the media got hold of it.

"Kingsley!" Bill Weasley ran toward him, wand in hand, and knelt down beside the wounded auror, "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Death Eaters," Kingsley hissed as the pain from his legs began to return with full force. The head-auror let out a groan as Bill gently helped him lay down on his back, "Dark Servant was here. Used dark magic."

"Well that much is obvious," the oldest Weasley son said already examining his injuries, "Do you know what spells they used on you?"

"No sure," Kingsley found himself panting now from the excruciating pain that was replacing the numbness he had been feeling before, "Used a non-verbal curse. Never seen it before. He took us all out with it."

"He? You mean to tell me that there was only one death eater who managed to take out four highly trained aurors?" John Dawlish had come into view as Bill began to cast a diagnosis charm on Kingsley, "That can't be right, Shacklebolt. That's not possible."

"It's possible," Kingsley hissed as the muscles in his legs cramped.

Around him, he could hear the cries of pain from the other aurors who had also been hit by the curse. The wizard opened his eyes again and looked up at Bill who was reading over the results from the charm. Kingsley could tell that he was worried about something.

"How bad is it?"

Bill glanced down at him, lines of worry crisscrossing his already scared face. Kingsley couldn't remember the last time he had seen the Weasley this stressed.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Kingsley. It's bad. It's well beyond my skills to heal."

"How bad is bad, Weasley?" Dawlish was clearly also feeling the strain of the situation, "I have three other aurors with the same types of injuries. I need details. Now."

Kingsley let his head fall back onto the stones beneath him as his body shuddered with pain. Through the fog that had begun to wrap itself around his head, he heard Bill say,

"Extreme damage to his lower limbs. Broken ankles, torn tendons and muscle. Frankly, I'm surprised he's still conscious. But this amount of damage mean-"

The voice faded to an unintelligible murmur as Kingsley felt himself begin to drift away, but a sudden sharp pain across his face made his eyes snap open.

"Still with me?"

If he had had the energy, Kingsley would have used several choice hexes on Bill for slapping a superior, but as it was, all he could do was groan in response.

"Dawlish is preparing immediate transport to St. Mungo's for you and the others," Bill was now the only one in his line of sight, "As soon as you are safely away, I'll send a message to Dumbledore and the others. They'll want to know. Probably come by to visit you too, if I were to take a guess."

Kingsley grunted, his throat feeling too dry to form any words. It felt like his entire body was throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat now that his adrenaline had died away. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. But there was something that was preventing him from doing so…there was something he knew he needed to tell Bill about. He just couldn't remember what exactly it was.

Think, Kingsley, think, he chided himself, you have survived much worse than a curse thrown by some kid.

Kingsley's eyes snapped open. The kid. With a grunt, he reached his hand out and grabbed onto Bill's arm, startling the man who had been looking away.

"Shit, Kingsley. You almost gave me a heart attack."

Kingsley ignored the remark and licked his lips in an effort to bring some kind of moisture to his mouth. He had to let Dumbledore know what he'd found out. He had to tell him about You-know-who's heir.

"T-the dark s-s-servan-nt."

The words came out badly slurred causing Kingsley to flinch at the sound of his own voice.

Fuck, he thought, How badly hurt am I? What'd that kid do to me?

"We know, mate," Bill said in a soothing voice, putting a hand gently on Kingsley's arm, "We'll figure it out from here. You just need to rest."

"N-n-no, y-you h-have t-t-t-to t-t-tell h-him," Kingsley felt his consciousness slipping away with every breath, "J-just a k-kid."

"A kid? What are you talking about? Where was there a kid?"

"T-the d-death eater," Kingsley was growing frustrated by his own weakness, but he refused to give up until he got the message across, "Y-y-young teen. S-s-said he's-s his s-son. H-have t–to tell D-Dumbledore. He n-n-needs t-to know."

Bill's face had gone pale by the time Kingsley managed to finish.

"His son," the Weasley breathed, "The son-of-a-bitch has a son."

That was the last thing Kingsley heard before he felt his dry throat constrict once more and a rush of pain seemed to set his entire body on fire, plunging him into a welcoming darkness.

"That's absurd, Albus," Minerva McGonagall stood in front of Dumbledore's desk, her arms crossed, "Kingsley must have been mistaken. There's no conceivable way that that thing could have helped to bring a child into this world. I don't believe it. No, I refuse to believe it."

"Minerva," Dumbledore's voice was soft, "We can't understand what extreme lengths Tom will go to to ensure that his cause and his bloodline don't end with him. We don't know what he's willing or capable of doing. Having a son is not out of the realm of possibility."

"But-"

"But I understand that we are all concerned about the legitimacy of this information. Though I trust Kingsley with my life, we do not yet know to what extent that dark curse affected him or his memory," the headmaster finally turned his gaze to look at the solitary figure that stood still in a corner of his office, "And that is why I have invited Severus to join us. I did not want to send the news out to those in the order until I had a chance to talk with him."

Severus closed his eyes briefly and took in a shuddering breath. So that was why the old wizard had called him back up to his office at this ungodly hour. Did the man ever sleep?

It had only been a little over an hour since they had returned from Grimmauld Place and he had been about to retire to catch what little sleep he could when he had received the message to come to Dumbledore's office straight away. He made a note to himself to check and see if he had any pepper-up potion left over from his seventh-year students. He had no doubt that he would need it come morning.

"Severus," Dumbledore's perpetually calm voice brought him back to the headmaster's office, "If what I know about the Fidelius Charm is true then you may be able to divulge some new information. I am wondering if the fact that the person it is about has revealed information himself will allow you to speak freely."

Severus couldn't help but raise a thin eyebrow at the headmaster. The exact limitations of the Fidelius Charm still remained a mystery. But he highly doubted that a powerful secrecy charm cast by Voldemort himself would allow him to divulge anything, regardless of the situation.

Even if I wanted to expose Harry to danger, Severus thought, a picture of the young wizard instantly popping into his mind, Why did you do that, Harry? What made you give that information away? You stupid, foolish boy.

It was during times like this that Severus desperately wished that he could floo directly to Riddle Manor and rescue Harry from Voldemort's clutches. Throughout his years of tutoring and teaching the teenager, he had grown rather protective of Harry. Particularly after seeing the way that he was treated by the dark lord. But now, with no ability to access the manor, all he could do was hope that Voldemort would not punish his son too harshly. Harry's relationship with Voldemort was something that the Dark Lord had protected for years and now that valuable information was about to be made public for the entire world to know.

"Are you alright, Severus?" McGonagall was now looking at him with the concerned gaze of a mother hen.

Severus just nodded at the witch before turning his gaze back to the headmaster who still sat at his desk.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt told Bill Weasley that his wounds were received directly from the hands of the dark servant," Dumbledore said slowly and carefully, "He said that before Kingsley passed out he indicated that this death eater was young. Just a child, but not just any child. A child and an heir to Tom himself."

Severus just nodded his head as Dumbledore spoke. The headmaster had already told both of them the message that Bill had delivered. He was not sure why the old wizard was repeating it again. Perhaps to see his reaction? Severus wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do.

"You knew that Tom had an heir, didn't you Severus."

It was more of a statement than a question, but, nonetheless, the potion master found his mouth opening to confirm this information…only to find that he couldn't. He felt the familiar tightness in his throat and his eyes widened when he realised that he could not say a word.

Damn you, Voldemort, Severus thought angrily as he quickly pressed his lips together into a thin line and took a deep breath through his nose. He stared at Dumbledore hoping that the man would understand.

"I see," the headmaster said quietly, "I had hoped to find some flaw or error in Tom's casting of this charm, but it appears as though I was wrong. But not to worry, I believe I already know the answer to my question."

"But what are you going to do with this information, Albus?" McGonagall sounded increasingly worried and irritated, "I don't see what good this news can bring. It's not as though we can do anything about a dark heir to You-know-who anyway. The Auror Department will be the ones to take care of it if they are even able to."

"That's what has me worried, my dear Minerva. The Ministry and the Auror Department will only be able to see this teenager…this child as nothing more than a threat that must be eliminated at all costs. And if what the rumors say is true then this boy will be thrown into Azkaban or given the kiss immediately would he ever be captured. He has cast unforgivables and has used dark magic to kill. That is all that the ministry will focus on."

Severus felt his heart rate spike as the conversation turned to Harry's inevitable fate. He watched as McGonagall's brow creased,

"And why is that our problem, Albus? This is the law. This is what comes from associating with You-know-who and his followers."

The issue of Harry's future was something that Severus had avoided thinking about ever since he met the infant more than a decade ago. Harry was, effectively trapped…all ways leading to death and darkness.

"It should concern the order," Dumbledore said with a sigh, "This child is in an unbelievable amount of danger now that he has revealed himself to be Tom's heir."

"Well, he seems perfectly capable of defending himself against a whole group of aurors. I'm not sure I would call that weak or defenseless."

Dumbledore nodded slowly,

"Indeed. He has shown that he is well-trained and capable, but let me reemphasise this. He is a child. We might not know his exact age, but the issue still stands. How can we punish a teenager for the way that they have been brought up? If he has been raised by death eaters then he will have never had the chance to learn right from wrong. To learn mercy. To understand the difference between light and dark magic. Tom is raising this child as a killing machine and that is all that the world will see him as."

Severus's brow creased. He was confused about where the headmaster was going with this argument.

"There may still be hope for this boy. There may be a way to bring him back to the right side before it is too late."

"You want to use him to get to the dark lord," Severus's voice caused McGonagall to flinch slightly, "You want to turn him into a weapon for the order. Is that it?"

"N-"

"Well, I can tell you that it won't work, Albus. And it will make you just as bad as the dark lord if you seek to do that."

Dumbledore had begun to run a hand through his beard. Something that Severus had only observed the old wizard doing when he was distressed.

"You misunderstand me, my dear boy. I do not intend to make him into some kind of weapon. I simply do not want to risk another young wizard falling into the same darkness that took Tom. I will not make that mistake again. I can't let another child succumb to dark magic or to be unjustly killed for something he could never control."

"So you will do what?" Severus felt his concern for Harry rise with each passing minute, "You will take him away from the only home he has ever known and do what with him? You will put him in school? Teach him yourself? Your plan is greatly flawed, Albus. It won't work."

"We don't even know if we can get to him," McGonagall cut in, "We are arguing about a hypothetical situation right now. A hypothetical context that will never come about. What makes either of you think that the order can somehow capture this child? After what he was able to do to Kingsley? And if we happen to succeed then we will have the entire ministry after us seeking the teen for themselves. Not to mention that You-know-who would come for him, as well. That child…that dark servant is too far gone. You can't save everyone, Albus."

Severus felt as though he had just been slapped across the face. McGonagall's comment, though aimed at Dumbledore, had cut at his soul. He had battled regret for many years thinking that he should have tried harder to save Harry when he first found out about the child. He should have tried harder.

But it was too late now and he knew that. Voldemort had sunk his claws too far into Harry for him to ever be able to break free. There was nothing that Severus nor anyone else could do to change that.

With a quiet sigh, the potion master turned and began to make his way toward the door. He was too emotionally drained from the past several weeks to deal with this talk about Harry. If he kept on thinking about the boy, he would only end up drowning in the regret and disappear which seemed to haunt Harry's every footstep. Severus heard McGonagall continuing to argue with the headmaster as he quietly slipped out of the door, shutting it softly behind him.

As Severus walked back down toward his private chambers, he found that he couldn't get the image of Harry out of his mind. Even when he lay down to sleep a little while later, his dreams were filled with the young green-eyed boy screaming out in pain and pleading with Severus to save him.