Written for THC Challenge: Severus Snape–Alan Rickman!
Part 2: Write a story inspired by Alan's movies.
This story was inspired by my favorite Alan Rickman scenes from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. See if you can guess which ones (yes, it's obvious).
Prompts:
(dialogue) "We will cancel Christmas."
(word) spoon
Word count: 1438
Beta: Queenie
-x-x-x-
Voldemort let the kitchen door slam behind him as he strode towards the stairs with one persistent thought in his mind: he had to get Harry Potter.
Having found out about his greatest secret, the brat was not only hunting his Horcruxes but also playing some kind of a hero for the Order supporters now that Dumbledore was dead. He couldn't have that. There would be no rooting for The Boy Who Lived, or aiding him in hiding.
Since Voldemort had taken over the Wizarding World, he thought the need for violence would have ceased by now and they could live in peace, but apparently some thought the war wasn't over. And yet, despite torturing everyone suspected of contact with Potter, they still couldn't capture him.
Perhaps he should talk to Ginny. As Potter's former friend, she might have some insight on how to find him.
Ginny was one of the few people associated with the Order of the Phoenix who decided to change sides. Voldemort had been expecting it – he had gotten to know her heart and soul quite well through the diary when she was just a child. He knew she was only suppressing her true nature for her family's sake. However, there came a time when she had to put herself first, smart girl that she was.
Her family disowned her, not that it should mean anything. The reign of Muggle lovers was over, and all that the Weasleys were now, were wanted rebels and blood traitors.
Ginny lived in Voldemort's Manor now, along with some of his most faithful followers. The girl was a very skilled, pureblood witch. He was sure she would climb high in his ranks.
He went to her room, deep in thought on capturing the impossible-to-find boy, but before he could reach for the handle, the door burst open and he stood face to face with none other than Harry Potter.
Voldemort's brain stopped working. Was this some kind of an illusion? Had he been obsessing with Potter so much that he started to hallucinate? Ginny was shouting something in the background, but the shock prevented him from understanding the words. Rooted to the spot, he stared blankly at the boy's equally stunned face, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
Potter was the first one to regain his senses. He hastily raised his wand, and Voldemort only caught a glimpse of the boy's panicked expression before his vision went red, whether from the curse, or the blood that gushed from his cheek, he wasn't sure.
The door slammed in his face, and he was falling, knocked down by the spell that stung his cheek and the improbability of the situation. He felt detached from reality, his brain frantically trying to catch up on what just happened. Harry Potter was here, in his Manor. Harry Potter attacked him in his own Manor.
When he finally hit the floor, an outraged yell tore from him, which summoned his Death Eaters to his side in a minute.
"POTTER!" he screamed in blind fury, shoving aside the idiots who tried to help him up.
He flung himself at the door. It was locked.
"Get this door open!" he snarled at his followers before reaching for his own wand, ready to kill.
Several Death Eaters aimed at the door. The wood was blasted into splinters, and Voldemort stormed in, to Ginny's distressed squeak coming from a corner where she was cowering from the explosion. Apart from her, the room was empty, but the glass in the window was broken. Voldemort raced towards it, only to see a flying figure on a broom, disappearing into the distance.
He let out another furious scream, and his Death Eaters ran for their lives when he started blasting curses around in a fit of blind rage.
-x-x-x-
Severus was leaning over his fuming master, muttering counter-curses and gliding his wand over Voldemort's face where red blisters were spreading around a nasty cut across his cheek, while Barty paced by the window, finishing inspecting the wards.
"I want that little rebellious group found!" the Dark Lord shouted. Trying to sit still in his chair under Severus's ministrations, he slammed his palm on the table, making a spoon jump and clank against a cup. "Anything that's left of the damn Order! Kill anyone supporting Potter in any way!" Voldemort's hand closed into a fist as it hit the tabletop again. The cup fell over and rolled to the floor with a loud clank which was drowned out by the Dark Lord's yelling. "I want his own people to turn on him and bring me his head themselves!"
"Perhaps we could come up with a new name for him," Barty suggested. "The Boy Who Lived doesn't exactly conjure the image of an enemy. We could call him Potter the Rebel, or The Boy Who Disrupts Peace."
"Whatever!" The Dark Lord slammed his fist against the table once more, making the spoon bounce. "I want him dead! I want him brought here to me so that I can carve his heart out with this very spoon!"
Severus slowly moved past his master and discreetly slid the spoon off the table.
"Let me just get the murder weapon out of your way," he muttered, pocketing the potentially dangerous item.
One Death Eater had already died today from a stray curse shot by the Dark Lord in his fit of rage. Oh, well – occupational hazard. Severus seriously doubted Voldemort would kill his two most faithful followers, especially with a spoon, but better to be safe than sorry.
When his master cast him an angry glare, Severus cleared his throat and quickly busied himself with wetting a cloth with Essence of Dittany.
"I don't think we can count on people to turn him in," Severus said, his eyes fixed on the potion bottle. "Many of those who have joined us still love Potter for standing up to you."
He raised the wet cloth to the wound on his master's cheek, but Voldemort suddenly turned his head to look at him.
"Just a minute," Voldemort blinked, as if what he just heard was beyond comprehension. "Harry Potter keeps rebelling against me, forcing me to hurt the public… and they love him for it?"
A confused Dark Lord was a comical sight. Stunned, Severus stared at him with wide eyes and simply nodded in response. Voldemort's gaze hardened and his features shifted into a far more familiar expression as his surprise was gradually replaced by anger.
"That's it, then!" He slammed his fist against the table again, then pointed his finger at Barty as he growled his orders,"Call off offering pardons to my former enemies who decide to join me. And no more merciful executions!"
"Of course, My Lord," Barty replied respectfully. "Anything else?"
"Yes. We will cancel Christmas."
Barty's eyes briefly darted towards Severus, and for the first time ever, the two of them exchanged a look that wasn't one of hatred and rivalry, but something akin to a freaked out, knowing look of wariness.
"Christmas, My Lord?" Barty inquired carefully.
"That's right! Let's see how much love they have left for Potter," he spat the offensive word venomously, "when the winter comes and they have nothing to be happy about!"
Severus pursed his lips to refrain from snorting.
"Do you get happy about Christmas?" he asked pointedly before he could stop himself.
"Shut up!" Voldemort barked. "Now get this thing over with!" he nodded at the cloth in Severus's hand, then went still, staring ahead with a clenched jaw.
Severus cleaned the wound and spilled a few drops of the Essence of Dittany directly onto it. The cut disappeared, leaving an ugly scar, but it would heal in a few days. In the meantime, Barty finished his inspection.
"The wards are intact, Master. Someone must have just let Potter in," he announced.
"Weasley," Severus hissed accusingly.
"Perhaps," Voldemort said with a grimace that clearly told Severus that he didn't believe it for a moment.
"Well, even if it wasn't her, Potter did come to see her. He's clearly trying to get her back," Severus pointed out. "We could use that to lure him into a trap."
"That might be a good idea, Severus. But more importantly now," Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously, causing a shiver to run down Severus's spine, "we have a traitor to catch."
Severus swallowed. Judging by his master's murderous expression, someone in the Manor was about to suffer a slow and painful death; and if the Dark Lord was feeling cruel, there might even be a spoon involved in the process.