Flytrap
The Gryffindor common room was practically deserted, save for Hermione Granger, sitting on the thick woollen carpet by the fireplace. She had been using every spare moment to peruse the half-dozen volumes she had borrowed two nights prior. As she scribbled a few notes on a piece of parchment, a discreet rustle caused her to look up. A stony-faced first-year was making his way to the round door.
"Hey, young man? It's past curfew, you know," she called out.
The boy turned his onyx eyes to her. "I've got detention, Miss Granger. Got caught in the library's Restricted Section," he explained.
"Oh," she remembered the exchange on Wednesday. "Didn't Mrs Pince say Saturday?"
"Timing's been changed. Mr Hagrid needs help getting Bubotubers from the Dark Forest to re-plant them in the greenhouses. Perfect night to do it, according to Professor Sprout."
"Ouch," Hermione winced. "Be careful not to get any pus on your skin. It burns."
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, call me Hermione. I'm a prefect, not a teacher," she smiled.
"All right," the boy shrugged.
"I'm a rubbish prefect, though," the witch added. "I can't remember your name."
"It's Karam. Karam Saddik," he replied. "May I go now?"
"Yes, of course. And don't worry. Hagrid's all right, he really is."
The boy was met outside the portrait hole by Filch, flashing a yellow-teethed grin. "So, Mister Saddik, your punishment is coming a day early?" he wheezed. "We'll see how you like our forest. 'm sure after doing some live research, you won't be so keen to nose into the library's forbidden section, boy."
A hand resting protectively on her stomach, Morag was asleep in the green-draped bed. As the silver clock on the mantlepiece struck eleven, she stirred and turned over, her arm landing on the empty pillow beside her. Her fingers groped around and she opened her eyes. Frowning, she reached for a candle stub and lit it with a flick of her fingers.
"Severus?" Her voice echoed across the high, vaulted room. The dungeons were empty and silent, save the faint crackling of the fireplace. Embers diffused a dim crimson glow, barely dispersing the night chill.
Morag grabbed a jumper and a pair of jeans. The jeans' buttons gaped slightly open over her belly, and she fastened them with a piece of string. Stepping out of the bedroom, she glanced around Severus' empty office.
"Where's he got tae at this time o' night?" she muttered.
She tied her hair in a bun and laced up her boots. Wrapping her thick woollen cloak around her shoulders, she hurried up the stairs, through the wide, deserted hallways, and out of the Castle. She stepped over the mossy stone bridge that connected the gate to the road leading to Hogsmeade. Underneath, the steep cascade lept on the glistening stones.
A fierce wind chased clouds across the full moon, which intermittently bathed the valley in cold blue light. Dead leaves fluttered across the road before Morag as she stepped under the looming trees. Critters scurried in the undergrowth, but she paid them no notice. She swore as her foot slipped in squelchy mud.
Past a rotten tree, she soon found herself under the comforting glow of the first lampposts, and she walked towards her cottage. As she passed the Hog's Head, Aberforth stepped out from under the porch and strode up to her.
"Morag! I'm glad to see you out. You must come with me. Severus needs you."
"Aye, I woke up and he was gaun. Where's he? What happened, Aberforth?"
"No time for talkin', lass. Follow me," the old wizard grunted.
They walked quickly, exited the village and entered the Dark Forest. Aberforth kept glancing around him warily, his wand at the ready. The trees' thick boughs, overrun with creepers, smothered all sound and blocked out the moonlight. "Lumos," Aberforth muttered, but his wand barely lit the narrow track they were following.
He led them further and further in, where the Forest was most tangled and thick. Morag halted. "Aberforth, I dinnae like this part of the Forest much. The centaurs told me I shouldnae venture this way, on account of the dangerous creatures that dwell here."
"D'you want to help your man, or not?" Aberforth hissed as he strode on.
Soon, they reached an area where thick, grey cobwebs hung from the branches. As Morag looked at the silhouette marching in front of her, she squinted her eyes. The old man's stringy grey hair was, slowly but unmistakably, turning into a mass of untidy black curls. His gait changed, and he seemed to shrink in size somewhat.
"Aberforth?" Morag whispered, her voice trembling.
A shrill cackle rang through the woods, and a gaunt, wild-eyed witch turned to face the healer.
"Not attending wizarding school was a grave mistake, Miss Duncan. If you had, you would have heard of Polyjuice potion." Bellatrix licked her lips.
Eyes wide, Morag turned on her heels, ready to run for her life.
"Petrificus Totalus," the Dark witch uttered, and the younger woman fell on the floor, stiff as a plank. Bellatrix loomed over her, grinning.
"You are such a naïve little thing, are you not? Oh, don't worry, we'll call dear Severus to the rescue." There was mischief in her voice, as if she were a child planning a practical joke.
"I'll be so kind as to lead him here myself. He'll do whatever I ask if I tell him I've got you," she hissed. "And all the while he'll be hoping he gets to you in time to save you. What makes this game thrilling, of course, is guessing how much will be left of you when he gets here."
Crouching by Morag's immobile form, she whispered in the young healer's ear, "They'll tear you apart, and there is nothing he can do about it. The rest of his miserable life will be haunted by the sight of your remains. After all, he never got to see the corpse of his dear Lily. That'll be a nice change, don't you think?"
She got up and danced away, singing,
"Incy wincey spider climbed up the spout.
One little fly found herself caught out.
Incy wincey spider tore her apart…"
Unable to move, Morag watched shadows stalking beneath the trees. Something was out there, preying on her. Four bulky, eight-legged and eight-eyed creatures advanced somewhat hesitantly, assessing the risks of attacking witches after their painful defeat at the castle a few months prior. The biggest one was about as big as a sheep. Morag's mouth would not even open to cry out. One of the Acromantulas detached itself from the group, and, crouching on its spindly, hairy legs, sank its fangs in the tender flesh of her neck.
As the venom coursed through her veins, Morag felt an acute pain rise from her spine, a stretching sensation pulling and tearing at her muscles and tendons, and her bones felt as if they were breaking through her skin. Her agonized shriek tore through the forest.
Sitting cross-legged in the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione groaned in frustration as she skimmed through her notes. After hours of extensive research, she still had no idea of how one could track down a specific witch or wizard. She blew her hair out of her face and reached for the next heavy volume. The paper was aged and stiff, and she had to squint to decipher the antique cursive. As she grabbed her quill to make another note, she felt a hand on her shoulder and gasped.
"It's me, Hermione," Harry said, not bothering to sit down. He lay the Marauder's Map on her lap and pointed to its edge, where the first few acres of the Dark Forest had been drawn. Ron was behind him, tight-lipped and frowning.
"She was there barely a minute ago. With Morag Duncan," the green-eyed wizard stated.
"When you say she, you don't mean…"
"Bellatrix. We have to tell Snape. Come on."
Concealed under the Invisibility Cloak, they raced to the Dungeons, dropped the cloak to their shoulders and knocked frantically on Professor Snape's door, but no reply came.
"He's out," a voice said flatly. "Saw him leave over an hour ago."
The three friends span on their heels and found themselves face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.
"Where's he gone?" Harry demanded.
The blond wizard spread his hands out and shrugged. "How would I know? It's not like I'm in his good books, Potter. As for you three, what do you think you're doing down here? It's not your area to patrol. Although I doubt you're on Prefect duty, hiding in that bloody cloak."
"We don't have time for games, Malfoy –" Harry started.
"Draco, we think Bellatrix has Morag in the Dark Forest. If we can't find Professor Snape, we'll have to go and rescue her ourselves."
Draco blanched. "Fuck." Then, whipping his wand out, he said, "I'm coming with you."
"What?" Ron said. "No way. I'll help, for Miss Duncan's sake, but that bag of shite here…"
"Oh, shut up, Ron," Hermione snapped. "He's trying to help. Come on, you three. There's no time to lose."
Author's Note:
To those who might think, "Wait, Snape DID see Lily's corpse" - not in the book, he didn't. Nothing in Deathly Hallows (or any other Harry Potter book) indicates that Severus went to Godric's Hollow on that fateful night. And the books are my prior source. Anything in the films that is inconsistent with the books, I consider non-canon for this story's purpose.