Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Death in All its Many Forms ❯ 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Chapter 2 – Revenge of the Raven


It was a hectic summer at Hogwarts. After Voldemort’s death, reporters swamped the campus – all wanting to interview The-Man-Who-Killed-You-Know-Who. Snape became an expert at avoiding the press, sneaking around the campus as if he was still a fugitive.

McGonagall wasn’t surprised when she knocked on his door and found him packing his sparse belongings. “Going somewhere, Severus?”

“Obviously. Any other time-wasting questions for me, or can I return to fleeing this reporter sodden castle?”

“I see you’re in a cheery mood today.”

He spared time for an ugly glance and returned to packing, pointedly turning his back on her to fold his clothes on the small student bed that must have been at least a foot and a half too short for his long legs.

“I have some good news, actually. How would you like to remain at Hogwarts as the Potions Master again? I’ll chase the reporters off if they bother you that much. Most people would be glad of the attention.”

“You know that’s not my style. I want people to recognize me for my skills, not as some flavor of the month. It’s embarrassing. I can’t go into Hogsmeade without seeing my name plastered on every magazine and newspaper stand in town. I’m getting as far away from here as possible, as quickly as possible.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“It is. You should see the headlines. ‘Local hero has havoc in heart.’ ‘How did he do it? An inside story.’ Oh, and the worst, ‘Dreamy downtrodden duelist – why the new fashion is black and brooding.’ I can’t stand it. I’ll have to take a job in another country just to get away from the teenage fans.” He angrily threw some shoes in the suitcase.

“Well, no good deed goes unpunished. I can at least promise you we’ll keep the drooling fans at a distance, except for students, that is.”

He spun and faced her, his face livid. “Only a month ago, no one here trusted me. I know everyone here thought I’d betray Albus for years. I was always loyal to Albus – always! These “good” people,” he sneered, “are the traitors. Give me one good reason I should stay here.”

McGonagall felt a sudden pain for the man. Outwardly, he was the stern, frightening Potions Master – dark, forbidding, and unapproachable. Inside however, she knew there was still a hurt, angry child who had never had the chance to heal properly from his horrific upbringing. She wanted nothing more than to grab him in a big bear hug and let him cry on her shoulder as he had when he was a child. He had never confided in her as he had Albus, but hers were the broad shoulders he needed when the world became too dark for a small child. “You should stay because it was Albus’ last wish. He wanted you here,” she said quietly.

He stopped and calmed himself. “This is the first I’ve heard of this. What do you mean?”

“You were a fugitive when his will was read, but there was a petition in it for you to be given tenure as permanent Potions Master at Hogwarts, with a plea that you accept the post as a favor to Albus. There was also a personal letter addressed to you.” She pulled out an envelope from her robes. “I’m sorry. In all the commotion over You-Know-Who, and then taking over as headmistress, I forgot to give it to you. It’s only the middle of summer. Think about it for a couple of weeks. We have enough applicants for the job to get someone in a hurry if we must. Take your time.”

She turned to leave, but hesitated at the doorway. “Honestly, I think we’d miss you somehow. I know I would.” She left quickly, knowing she had embarrassed him.

He sat on the bed and turned the envelope over in his hands a few times. Albus had remembered him then, even at the end of all things. He felt more alone and lost than he had since Potter had become Albus’ new favorite. Damn the brat for taking his only family when he stole Albus! The letter was short, and smelled vaguely of licorice.

“Dear Severus,

I have always tried to respect your need for privacy and decorum, especially in the latter years as your position of spy has strained you to the breaking point. I have refrained from open affection, because it seemed to bother you. I have reasons to believe I may not survive the war, and so I have left personal letters to those I care the most about.”

Snape stopped for a moment, remembering the love Albus had given him freely when he would still accept affection from the old man. He felt guilt as he realized it was he, and not Albus who had done the turning away.

“I just wanted you to know that you are like a son to me, and no one can ever replace you, not even Harry, as much as I love him.

I have a few requests to make of you. First, that you stay at Hogwarts as Potions Master. I know you want the Defense Against the Dark Arts Position, but you are the best Potions Master Hogwarts will ever see, and there are many who have studied the Dark Arts and their weaknesses, but very few good at the fine art of potion making. Also, I urge you to accept the friendship of the faculty there. I know you don’t feel that you need them, but you can’t keep yourself in your dark walls forever.

Second, for my sake, please make peace with Harry. If you are like my son, he’s like my grandson. It pains me to see the feud between the two of you. Consider it my dying wish. He’ll need someone when I’m gone, and the other adults in his life can’t possibly understand him the way you can. The two of you are actually very much alike. You may find that a positive relationship would be to your benefit as well.

Remember my love in the dark times, my child.
Fondly yours,
Albus.”

“Sentimental rubbish,” Snape growled as he crumbled the letter into a ball and tossed it toward a trash bin, which scampered frantically to catch the ball.

“He never could resist rubbing my face in his pity,” Snape growled. He remembered all the times Albus had ‘pitied’ him, with those awful sweets, and his disgusting hugs, but no matter how hard he tried to pretend he didn’t like the attention, he would have given his left arm for a lemon candy about then, or a disgusting hug.

He hadn’t really had time to feel his loss until then, and Severus cried for the first time in decades. He hated the weakness of it, but couldn’t stop for a good hour. When he was finished, he cast a few spells to cover the physical manifestations of emotion, trained his face back into its solid indifferent look, and began to unpack the clothes he had just finished packing. It was good to know that someone had loved him best, and somehow that changed things. He just wished he had let Albus tell him these things while he was still alive, but it was hard enough to allow someone to talk to him about their feelings, much less an old man forcing sweets on him.

McGonagall wasn’t entirely surprised to see Severus in her office. “I’ve decided to stay, Minerva. Merlin knows that dimwit that was here last year did enough damage in my absence. I’d hate to see the potions program here completely go to pot.”

She gave him a very knowing look, and shook his hand with a smile. “Glad to have you back, Severus.”

“I will need new rooms, however. The overwhelming melodramatic hero-obsessed Gryffindor drama going on around me is giving me tension headaches.”

McGonagall smiled a particularly evil smile. “Did I forget to tell you? We had rooms open up in Slytherin a couple days after you moved into Gryffindor tower. It must have completely slipped my mind.” She felt an odd satisfaction at the remarkable shade of red Severus’ face changed, noticing that he was almost matching Gryffindor’s chosen color. For the first time since she’d met him, he was speechless. He turned and stalked out of her office as angrily as he could, slamming the door and yelling at a hapless student who was in his way.

“Good to have you back, little Raven.” She said quietly, using her pet name for Severus from his student days. “This place just wouldn’t be the same without you.” Her day was always better after a good silly row with him, and she suspected he enjoyed it as much as she did.

Xxxx

Lupin was growing very annoyed with Harry and Hermione. He shifted to try to get a more comfortable position on the awkward train seat. His first semester back at Hogwarts, and he was stuck in a train with two excitable new teachers. He hated train sentry duty. They babbled about lesson plans and special projects as if they had created the whole idea of teaching altogether. He was glad to see they were speaking again, but wished they had chosen a better time to get re-acquainted.

“Would you two mind?” he asked as politely as he could manage. “I need some sleep.”

Harry felt guilty. “Sorry Remus. Not feeling well?”

“Too close to the full moon.” He noticed that Harry looked better than the last time he’d seen the boy. He had lost weight, and looked far too thin, but he had a good color to his face, and wore his hair in an attractive long style, unbound and flowing. Hermione, of course, looked the same as always. She was too much the scholar to waste time with vanity.

Just as he finally managed to fall asleep, the train was violently jolted by an explosion. The trio was tossed all over the cabin, and Lupin hit his head on the door and was knocked unconscious. Harry was the first to recover. He could see a precipice out the window, over which the train leaned dangerously. He heard students crying, and a few screaming in pain. He checked on Hermione, who was beginning to move, despite a broken arm. “We’ve got to get the students out. I’ll go towards the front, you head toward the back.”

Before he could leave the cabin, however, he heard the groaning of over-stressed metal and felt the train tip farther. He could tell it was going over, and yelled, “Everyone, levitate the train, now!” He heard a number of older students cast the spell, and felt the train stop its sliding movement.

“Now what?” Hermione asked. “We can’t let the spell go.”

Harry had no plan, and searched frantically for any spell that might save them. They held the train for five minutes as he suggested various plans to Hermione, none of which would work. Finally, the students who were injured could no longer hold the spell, and it was left to about ten students and the teachers to hold the train. Lupin joined his magic with the others when he awakened. The train began to slip again, despite the increased concentration of the casters.

Suddenly, the window grew dark as two enormous claws surrounded the entire cabin. They punctured the metal and glass easily, spraying Hermione with glass shards. She screamed, grabbed her eye, and jumped away from the wall. Harry hoped her eye wasn’t badly injured.

The creature, whatever it was, lifted the train section that was hanging over the edge of the cliff and set it carefully on the ground next to the ruined tracks. Harry was knocked to the floor by the movement, but was uninjured. He saw the claws disappear, and a great green eye almost as large as the window peek in. Their protector stepped away from the train, and Harry saw that it was a large, green dragon. A great rumbling voice filled the cabin. “Send an owl to McGonagall. I’ll help with the healing.” Harry saw the great eye disappear. He moved to the window, hoping to see the dragon more clearly, but he only saw a petite Chinese woman heading toward the train. He could only hope she meant well, and hadn’t saved them for some reason other than idealistic helpfulness.

A student’s owl was sent, and help arrived in only thirty minutes. During that time, Harry and Hermione both noted the mystery woman’s power with healing magic. When the healers and teachers arrived, they took over the task of handling the many injured students, and the adult victims were left together, shuffled aside and told to “stay here”, as if they were troublesome children instead of teachers. As she was healing Hermione’s eye, the newcomer said, “Not quite the way I expected to begin the new school year.”

Hermione shook hands with her. “I’m Hermione Granger, the new Arithmancy teacher. That’s quite an animagus form you have there. What was that?”

“It’s a Chiung-Ku dragon. I’m Cho Chang, but I usually go by Drakia, for obvious reasons.”

Hermione looked suspicious. “I’ve never heard of a dragon animagus form. It’s supposed to be impossible to sustain the power necessary to hold such a large form.”

“Theoretically, yes. All I can tell you is that it takes very little magical power to switch between forms, and none to hold onto the dragon form.”

Lupin’s head jerked around, and his eyes narrowed. He was behind Cho, and was sniffing the air carefully.

Harry was curious. “Are you any relation to a Cho Chang that graduated Hogwarts last year?”

“I don’t have any relations outside China that I know of.”

Harry decided he liked her soft accent, and he definitely liked her willowy figure and long black hair and dark eyes. Since things hadn’t worked out with Ginny… “I’m the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. What will you teach?”

“Unarmed non-magical spontaneous combat, which is a complicated way of saying street fighting. Professor Dumbledore sent for me shortly before he died. He seemed to think the students should be prepared for combat in a magic-restricted area, or in case an opponent disarmed them. I was sorry to hear about his death. He was badly needed.” She stopped when she saw the distress on Harry’s face. “I’m sorry, you were close to him.”

“Very. Excuse me please; I need to see about transportation for the students.” He stumbled over broken ground, trying to get away from the thoughts of Dumbledore. Remus followed him.

“Harry, we need to talk.”

“Not now Lupin. We can get all emotional later. Right now let’s get everyone back to Hogwarts.”

Lupin was hurt. Harry was never rude to him. “It’s about Professor Chang; I don’t trust her.”

“Why not? She did save us.” Harry was suspicious of her himself, but then he was suspicious of everyone these days. Maybe he was overreacting.

“The wind changed while we were talking. I had moved upwind to avoid the blood smells from the students, but when it shifted, I could smell her.”

“And?”

“And she smells wrong. I can’t really explain it. I’ve smelled it before, once, in the forbidden forest, but I can’t quite place the smell. It’s a fey smell, though.”

“We’ll just have to keep an eye on her then.” Not that that would be difficult. She was easy to look at.

Xxxx

The welcome feast wasn’t as joyous as it had been in past years. Twenty students were on required bed rest, and the rest were shaken by the attack on the train. McGonagall took her place as headmistress, and rose to address the children. She did the customary welcome with the warnings about the forest and the various campus restrictions. “I have good news, students. You will be relieved to hear that the aurors investigating this morning’s happenings have given a finding of accident and not an attack.” The relief in the great hall was palpable. “It seems that a boiler gave out and exploded, sending a shock wave through the cabins. A notice has been sent to all students’ parents, that next year there will be an entirely new train engine, with redundant safety systems.”

“And now, we have several new and returned professors. Professor Granger will be teaching Arithmancy, and Professor Potter will be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher.” She missed the glare that Harry got from Snape, but Harry didn’t miss it, and enjoyed his victory immensely. There was polite clapping from the students. “Professor Chang will be teaching Unarmed non-magical spontaneous combat, also called street fighting for those of you raised in non-magical homes.”

“Also, we have two returning professors. Professor Lupin will be taking Professor Sprout’s herbology classes, as she has accepted an appointment at an American University.” More polite applause.

“And we have Professor Snape back as our Potions Master. Welcome back Severus.” All the teachers were shocked by the students’ reaction. They cheered and applauded loudly, finally giving him a standing ovation. A few Slytherins actually jumped up on their table and yelled loudly. Snape looked as if he wanted to crawl under the table. McGonagall wondered if he might actually try. When the ruckus calmed down, McGonagall began the feast, and everyone began to eat except for Snape. He simply toyed with his food a bit, and left at the first opportunity.

Madame Hooch noticed. “What’s up with Snarky?” she asked McGonagall.

“It would seem he’s shy suddenly. How strange.” She turned to her treacle tart and wondered how a Slytherin who had craved power and notoriety had become such a recluse. Modesty? she wondered. Not bloody likely. She kept her thoughts to herself though.

Professor Chang watched him leave and wondered about this odd man. He was obviously of Dark Elven descent, and had an air about him of restraint and power. It’s been too long since I’ve dealt with Elf-kin. I’ll have to speak with this professor Snape, she thought. She enjoyed the meal, especially the complexity of the spells used to produce the seamless service. As she tuned her mind to the magic of the place, she saw the energies around her dance and weave in careful magic. She was so entranced by the exotic beauty of the castle’s magic, that McGonagall had to repeat herself to get her attention. “How do you prefer to be called by the faculty? Professor Chang or Cho?”

“Drakia, actually.”

“I see, because of the animagus form?”

“It does tend to be my most noticeable feature.”

“I would really like to see that sometime.” McGonagall was jealous. A dragon-form!

Xxxx

That night, Severus spent a long time just looking at himself in the mirror, trying to decide exactly what it was he was seeing. Death Eater? Savior? Hero? Scum? He really only identified with the last. He had felt such guilt at the students hero-worship. At first, he had loved the power and attention he had gained after killing Voldemort, but he couldn’t get over the feeling that he was being watched. Now that he had attained the Slytherin ideal of power, he found that he didn’t like the attention. He much preferred lurking in the shadows to being spotlighted. It had been much easier just to be hated; he understood hatred.

He rubbed the scar on his arm where the Dark Mark had been, and smashed his fist into the mirror, cutting himself across the knuckles. The physical pain relieved him somewhat, and he spent several minutes watching the blood swirl with the water in the sink before the sink drained magically. He healed his hand, not bothering about the scar left across his knuckles and turned into bed, although he knew he wouldn’t sleep. He had too much to think about.

The next day was much better. Severus took advantage of the students’ study hall time to find his way to the teacher’s lounge. Other than his dungeons, it was his favorite spot on campus. The teachers tended to gather there in small groups while the unlucky professors stuck with study hall suffered through. It was a small, somewhat dingy area hidden in the bottom floor of the castle (literally hidden; only professors could see it). He was glad to see that no one had thrown out his old beat-up armchair in the corner niche between the soda machine and the wall. The teachers had called it Severus’ corner, and only he used it. It was the one place he could enjoy being around the other teachers, because there was an unwritten rule that the teacher’s lounge was a quiet place. They weren’t so bad when they weren’t talking constantly.

As he entered, he saw Lupin in an overstuffed chair near the window, taking a fitful nap. He always needed more sun after the full moon. He looked ill. Severus felt a stab of pity. Pity? he wondered. For him? What’s wrong with me? Next I’ll be hugging Gryffindors.

Severus had been acting odd lately, even for him. He seemed to be changing somehow, and at times felt like he had little or no control over what he said. He had actually found himself admiring the work of a particularly annoying Gryffindor, and praised her for her paper, even as another part of his mind wanted to shout at her for her Gryffindorness. He wondered if he was finally getting the remains of Voldemort out of his system. That mark may have had more of an effect on his will than he had realized. What if this was who he had been meant to be? He’d never had a chance to choose. His mother had told him from an early age that he would serve a great lord of darkness. She had a talent for prediction, apparently.

His thoughts were broken by the entrance of Professor Chang. She entered quietly and transfigured a chair about four feet away from him and sat down gracefully, smiled at him, said “Good afternoon, Professor Snape,” and began grading papers silently – in his corner! He was uncomfortable. No one had ever invaded his personal space here, and he didn’t quite know how to take it. She didn’t bother him, however, but simply worked on her papers. After a few minutes, he did the same, and discovered that he liked being close to someone who could work quietly. There was camaraderie about it he wasn’t used to. She seemed to exhibit a calming presence, and he wondered if it was accidental or purposeful. He was actually sad that the two-hour study hall passed so quickly.

That night he began to have disturbing dreams, vague nightmares about someone forcing something magical into his mind. He began to wake up with headaches, which grew progressively worse over the week. He tried a few pain-relief potions, to no avail. He wouldn’t go to Poppy, though. She was just too annoying.

The highlight of his days became the daily study hall periods. Although he knew she wouldn’t notice him, Severus began to wash his hair more regularly, and even used a special spell to keep the potion fumes from making it look so greasy. He tied it back with a black silk ribbon and decided he liked not looking like a Death Eater quite so much. He noticed for the first time that he wore shabby clothes. He had always thought of his robes as functional, but maybe it was time for a change. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about the nose.

The only time Drakia interrupted his work was entirely by accident. She was wearing a robe cut in the new fashion, cut slightly above the knees, which showed off perfectly formed legs. He caught himself staring, and turned back to his papers. He must have made some noise, because Drakia looked up. “Yes, Severus?”

“Nothing, I was just distracted by your legs.” Severus panicked and turned beet red. Why had he just said that? He hadn’t wanted to say that at all. It almost seemed as if he had lost complete control for a moment. “Sorry,” he stammered, “I have a headache.” He tried to hide behind his papers and rubbed his head where it hurt, slightly behind the temple. He seemed to say the oddest things when he had these headaches.

Drakia moved her chair closer. “Can I help? I am a good healer after all.”

He wanted to say no, but instead said, “Yes, please.” He began to feel that his mouth was a traitor. She smiled, took his hand, and placed her other hand lightly on the spot he had been rubbing. He decided this was one of the oddest days in his life. Here he was, staring into the eyes of one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and it was her idea. He knew McGonagall was across the room, watching with amusement, but he didn’t care.

She frowned a bit, and mumbled to herself. He heard her say, “This isn’t right,” and then waves of incredible pain shot through his head. Image after image of his childhood shot through his head at lightning speed, and then of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He heard Drakia calling his name from a distance, but he was unable to respond. He could feel McGonagall’s strong hands lower him to the floor – he knew those motherly hands well by now – and then there was nothing but darkness.

After Severus stopped convulsing, McGonagall turned on Drakia. “What did you do to him?” she yelled, and reached for her wand.

Drakia held her hands up in a non-combatant gesture. “Nothing. I swear it! He said he had a headache, and I was going to heal it for him, but it’s not a headache. It‘s more like a wound of some sort in his magic. We can discuss this later. He needs help.” She looked away from McGonagall, and checked his breathing and pulse. “I don’t like his breathing. It’s shallow.” She used her magic to stabilize him, matching his breathing to hers, and giving him energy and strength. He settled into something more like a natural sleep, and they took him to the hospital wing.

When Severus awoke in the hospital bed, Drakia was holding his hand and mumbling to herself again. This time there wasn’t any pain, just an odd numbness in the right side of his head. He realized she must have been blocking nerves to keep him from feeling whatever she was doing. She noticed he was awake, and smiled. “Good. I was getting worried, Severus. You sure do know how to get a lady’s attention.”

“Veela,” he mumbled.

“Veela?”

“You must be a veela, to have this affect on me.” He realized what he had said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

She laughed. “It’s ok. The problem is located near your impulse control center of your magic, which is why you’ve been a little off kilter lately. Actually, I’m flattered.”

“What problem?” His head buzzed and he wanted to sleep, but he felt her give him some of her strength, which kept him awake.

“There’s a wound in your magic, an old one. I could only look superficially while you were asleep. I stopped the bleeding, but the tumor needs to be removed.”

“Tumor? In my magic core?”

“That’s the best I can describe it. I need to get a close look. I’ll try not to hurt you, but I don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“I trust you.” He saw the shocked look on McGonagall’s face. Again, something he hadn’t meant to say, but it was true. For some reason, he did trust her.

He felt her presence in his mind, and fought the instinct to occlude her. She pressed gently at the wound, trying its boundaries and looking to see the extent of the damage. The nerve block kept him from feeling pain, but he was quickly exhausted and fell into a semi-conscious state.

She looked sad when he awakened, and McGonagall had obviously been crying. “Is it that bad?”

“Severus, someone placed a curse on you when you were five years old. I don’t know the exact curse used yet, but it looks like someone placed a compulsion on you. It looks a lot like the Imperius curse, with a few tweaks. There was a death clause.”

“Death clause?” He felt cold suddenly. Death clauses were usually used for assassins or spies, so that if they were captured, their magical core would rupture, killing them quickly before they could be interrogated. “I should be dead then.”

“It seems that your own magic fought the death clause, keeping you alive until now. The magic released should have ruptured your entire magic core, but instead you seem to have isolated it into a small tumor. You’re an unusually powerful wizard. Most people would have died immediately. I managed to neutralize the magic at work, and we can start to remove the curse so I can heal the wound. I’ll probably be seeing some memories and thoughts you might not want known. It can’t be helped.”

“I understand. Let’s get on with it.”

He felt her fingers in his mind again, this time prying carefully around the edges of the foreign matter in his magical core. As she worked, he relived the memory of the curse, and knew that she saw it too.

Xxxx

Severus saw his parents in his childhood home. His father was sitting by the fire, reading a muggle newspaper in his threadbare robe. When the clock struck seven, his mother stood. “Come, Severus, time for lessons.”

“No! I don’t want to!” He wailed. “I’m a good boy. I don’t want those lessons.”

His father stomped out of the room. She grabbed him by the arm. “You will learn, little snake. I have seen your future. You are fated to serve a great dark master, and I will have you ready for him. It’s my way out of this dung-hole, and you will do what I say!”

The adult Severus tried to fight his way out of those visions, but stopped when he heard Drakia’s reassuring voice. “It’s ok. I’m right here. Don’t fight me, or the healing will be incomplete and you might die. I won’t leave you; I promise.”

He relaxed as much as he was able and braced himself for what was to come. He saw his mother call a house elf, and order her to stand still. “Now, Sevvie,” she said gently, “do what mummy taught you.

“No!” he yelled, and began to cry. “I love Blonky. I don’t want to hurt Blonky.”

She kissed him on the head in a horrible parody of love. “It’s ok, baby. It’s just a house-elf. I’ll steal you another one. I promise. Ok now, do it with me … Avada Kedavra.” Blonky shook with fear but didn’t move, being an exceptionally obedient elf. Nothing happened though. His mother had just said the words, not cast the spell.

Severus just stood and cried loudly. “Ok, that’s it.” His mother said. “I hate to resort to this but, Imperio.” He stopped crying and waited. “There now. Do what mummy told you.”

Drakia had to fight to keep control as she saw the young Severus calmly kill his only friend because of his mother’s Imperious curse. She wondered if that woman were alive to seek revenge against.

Severus’ mother released him from the curse and he began to cry again. She took him in her arms and shushed him gently. “There, there. You are a good boy. You would have made a good Gryffindor someday, but we can’t have that now, can we?” She held him up so that he was standing on her legs and looking her in the face. “Mummy has to leave here Sevvie, and you’re the only one that can make that happen. Someday you’ll serve a great lord. I’ve seen it. You’ll come and get mummy, and the great lord will take care of us.”

She stunned him, and then cast a curse so evil Drakia had to stop working for a moment to steady herself, holding the magical extension of her fingers in place deep in Severus’ mind. She was almost finished with the procedure.

His mother twisted part of her son’s mind, changing his natural desires to fit hers. Now he was no longer little Sevvie. He was Severus, the future dark wizard. Drakia felt the foreign desires enter his mind, as his natural child’s affection and love was shoved deeply into his mind. The last part of the curse had been a simple “Obliviate,” which was why Severus had no memory of the entire incident. The memories had been buried deep in his mind, and surfaced with the rest of the curse after he had betrayed Voldemort. She could feel McGonagall calm Severus’ heart rate and breathing, and went back to the final part of the operation, untangling the messy magical tumor from his core being, and beginning to heal the damage.

When it was finished, Severus decided that even Crucio aftereffects didn’t feel this bad. He remembered everything now, how his mother had betrayed him and placed a mutated version of the imperious curse on him, compelling him to seek out the Dark Arts and a dark master when he was older. She had even placed a death clause, so that if he betrayed his lord, he would die quickly, so that he couldn’t take revenge. She had assumed the only way he could break the curse would be to know it was there, and then he would come after her for placing it in his mind.

McGonagall and Drakia watched anxiously. Poppy stood close by, with calming potions and pepper-up potions, because she thought he would need one or the other. All three women waited to see if his mind had survived the ordeal. He didn’t move, just starred with vacant eyes. “Did I ruin him completely?” Drakia wondered. She felt nauseous. He was a strong man, with a good heart, if a dark one. She could feel it. He deserved better than this.

He sat up and looked around him. Drakia and McGonagall sat on opposite sides of the bed, looking very worried. Poppy was close by, hovering like she always did. He probed himself mentally, carefully assessing the damage. The actual damage was smaller than it had seemed at first. Infection had made it seem larger. For the first time in his life, he realized why he had felt so driven both to seek out darkness and light at the same time. He let out a great sigh of relief. He wasn’t evil, or at least now he had the option to choose. All these years he had thought he was just as evil as Voldemort, only to find that he had no choice in the matter. Then it sunk in – the sheer volume of manipulation in his life. Who was he? Could he ever be the person he was meant to be, or was the chance for that life gone forever? Gryffindor? Bloody Gryffindor? There was too much to think about, and his tired mind refused to work anymore.

McGonagall had been watching carefully. At first, Severus’ eyes had been vacant, and she was afraid they had lost him. Then she had seen the calculating look he generally had when working on a complex problem, and knew that at least he was alive mentally. He didn’t speak, and that worried her. Finally, he blinked and looked around him, and did something he hadn’t done since he was a child. He buried his face in McGonagall’s shoulder and just let her hold him.

He didn’t cry, but he shook uncontrollably. She held him until he quit shaking and he lay back on the bed, falling asleep immediately. She moved some stray hair out of his eyes, and cast a special spell she had designed just for him when he was little. It allowed the sleeper to feel the love of his friends and family upon waking. She hoped it would help, but it had always been a bit weak in his case, because there were so few people who loved the obnoxious child. She had used it on many other students, but she always thought of it as Severus’ spell. She remembered suddenly that only a few months ago she might have killed him in cold blood because she thought he had murdered Dumbledore, and felt the need for some serious introspection.

He hadn’t been a Death Eater for nothing, however. He displayed the stamina he had earned through years of surviving the twin strains of Voldemort’s torture and spying for Dumbledore. In two days, he was up and teaching his full course load. At first, he was uncomfortable around Drakia, but her natural social poise put him at ease, and he began to enjoy the first honest friendship since his times with Dumbledore and Lilly. He knew that it would take years to come to terms with what had happened to him, if not the rest of his life. With the tumor gone, however, he was free to be the Severus he was meant to be, without the contradictory pull towards darkness his mother had instilled in him. Although, he wondered briefly, what if she hadn’t entirely instilled that desire in him, but only recognized the potential for evil? He decided only time would tell.

Xxxx

Harry however wasn’t doing so well. He was still grieving Dumbledore’s loss, as well as dealing with the aftereffects of the physical and emotional battles he had been fighting since his youth.

A first year student wandered by him in a corridor, chatting happily to her friends about how the dreamy Ravenclaw seeker had actually said hello to her at breakfast. Harry wanted to curse her for her annoying cheeriness, and felt a little satisfaction at the thought of a very surprised student trying to explain that to her friends.
That’s no good, he thought. Maybe I should take McGonagall up on that shrink she offered. He decided it wasn’t a good idea, though. He didn’t need one more person prowling around in his head. Between the scar’s connection with Voldemort, and his botched Occlumancy lessons where Snape had been inside his mind entirely too much, it was getting far too crowded in there. “If this keeps up, I’ll have to start charging rent for head-space,” he growled to no one in particular.

He thought he was a fairly good teacher, for a rookie. He had developed a curriculum that he felt was a good mix of theory and practicality, with more dangerous assignments as the ages of the students progressed.

The ministry had a royal fit over some of his teaching methods, especially when a senior member’s son complained to his mother about being subjected briefly to the pru-cruciatus curse. Harry had designed a much weaker version of the unforgivable Cruciatus curse, designed specifically for teaching purposes. Harry defended his actions, by explaining that they needed to understand the cruciatus curse to understand the need to avoid using it. It wasn’t technically unforgivable, so he barely avoided Azkaban, with McGonagall’s help and his own charisma.

He was on a short leash, and he knew it. His students didn’t like him, and many actively feared him. At first, that had bothered Harry, but he learned to dismiss their actions. He was teaching them how to save their own lives. It didn’t matter if they hated him or loved him; what mattered in the long run was whether or not he had prepared them for a meeting with Death Eaters. Just because Voldemort was dead didn’t mean evil took a vacation. His followers had taken up revenge as a hobby, and if Harry had anything to say about it, they wouldn’t get one of his students easily. He took the burden of teaching very seriously.

Xxxx

The semester went along fairly smoothly, with the only emergencies being the type that regularly happen at large schools: a bad run of the flu, a small fire in the Slytherin dorm by a pyromaniac, and a run-away Ice Toad from Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class. It didn’t do much damage, but several students had to go to the hospital wing with minor frostbite injuries.

Harry did have problems with the heads of the houses, and he had an especially difficult time with Snape. He had already been approached five times with practically the same argument following.

“Potter, you need to control yourself with the students in that chaos you call a classroom. I’ve had two injured students from my house this week, and there was no need to take a total of 150 points from Slytherin for minor infractions.”

“Firstly, it’s Professor Potter now, and secondly, how I teach isn’t your business.”

“It’s my business when you unfairly target my house for revenge for imagined injuries.” He knew that the imagined part wasn’t entirely true, but Potter was out of line.

“Imagined? You and Draco made my life hell, you bloody git! And I’m not getting revenge. Your house is made up of uncooperative, self-centered, sanctimonious students who regularly put other students in danger. Someone needs to keep them in check, before they cause some serious damage here.”

Snape smirked at Harry. “That’s amusing, Professor Potter. I seem to remember making the exact same arguments to the headmistress when she was the head of house for Gryffindor. She didn’t think much of my opinions, but at least I wasn’t a hypocritical brat posing as a saint. Your façade is getting tarnished, Potter.”

Harry was furious. “How dare you? I should curse you into next week for that!”

Snape’s manner changed completely, as he dropped the teasing manner and became suddenly predatory. “Is that a challenge to a wizard’s duel?”

Harry stopped, surprised at the question. He hadn’t intended his grudge to carry him this far, but now he felt committed. “Yes, actually. It is.”

“Very well, not during the school year, however. The students do need their Defense Against the Dark Arts training, and they can’t keep up with their studies when you’re dead. The 26th of December works for me. That way you can have one last Christmas with your precious friends.”

In the back of his mind, he remembered Albus’ words in his letter, asking him to make peace with Harry. I’m sorry, Albus, he thought. I just don’t think I can do it. He would do one thing for his dead friend, however.

He put on his best condescending look, one that he saved just for Gryffindors. “For Albus’ sake, I won’t actually kill you, just humiliate you, and maybe disfigure the face - give you a few more scars to pull attention away from the mommy-killing one. It’s a pity to mess that face up, though. You finally got over the acne.”

Harry was so mad he was shaking. “Until then, stay out of my way. I’d hate to have to explain to the headmistress why she had to hire a new Potions Master so late in the semester.”

Snape ignored the childish jibe. “I’ll have the proper forms owled to you from the Ministry of Magic, so I’m not charged for murder after the duel. I’ve done this nine times before, so I know all the procedures. Until then, I suggest you work on your spell casting. Without your precious friends around, you lose your advantage.”

He spun and walked from Harry’s office, noticing as he stepped into the corridor that he didn’t feel much better, even though he was about to finally have revenge on James Potter. He could hear Albus’ voice in his head, repeating a lesson he’d constantly tried to teach Severus when he was younger. “Revenge is for the weak, Severus. A strong man lives his life on his own terms, and when you abandon yourself to the urge to destroy, you become the slave of those urges. It will eat you like acid, boy. You must learn to forgive to survive.”

Severus shook his head to try to clear the thoughts. I’m leaving him alive for you, old man. That’s the best I can do for now. He considered himself generous for avoiding the temptation to kill Potter outright. He would even have legal protection once the papers were signed. He was passing up a legitimate use of power. Surely that was enough? He thought warily that he was behaving in a very Gryffindor manner by even considering a dead man’s wishes when they conflicted so much with his own needs.

Snape was changing over time; he could feel it. Only a year ago, Potter wouldn’t have made it alive to his next class if he’d pushed the Slytherin so hard, and no one would have ever found the body. Severus was well acquainted with the whims of the fates, and only hoped they waited until after the duel to toy with him more than they already had. The last thing he needed was to have an attack of conscience when his lifelong dream of beating James Potter was finally in his grasp.

Like his mother, however, Snape had a bit of a sporadic gift for seeing. He had a sneaking suspicion the duel would never take place, at least not in the socially accepted manner. He could only hope it would be because Potter got himself killed prematurely, and not because he called off the duel himself due to his annoyingly awakening conscience.

After he watched Snape leave with his best bat-like cape flourish, Harry said to himself, “so much for our truce. I’d better start training soon.”

It never once occurred to Snape that he might lose the duel.

Xxxx

McGonagall let Cawling McDewlish, a flustered second year Gryffindor student into her office. “Yes, Mr. McDewlish? Calm yourself.” She summoned a glass of water for him, which he ignored.

“You have to come immediately, Headmistress. You’ve been summoned by Firenze, and he’s on Hogwarts’ grounds.”

“Firenze, here?” She hurried to the edge of the forest, where she saw the centaur standing a few feet outside the forest edge. It was either a blatant disregard for treaties between humans and the forest folk, or he had come here to treat with her formally. Potter and Lupin were there also, and had sent the students back to their dorms for their own safety. Firenze would only speak to her, however.

He bowed to her when she arrived. She recognized the gesture. It was the way centaurs began negotiation, and meant that this conversation was meant to be a formal exchange of terms. “I ask to treat with you, human headmistress, about the terms of our agreement concerning the school of wizards and the forest of fey.”

She tried to remember the proper formulas for such an exchange. “I welcome the noble centaur. May we and thee come to a proper agreement. What do you seek from the humans?” The bizarre formality of the conversation was annoying, but a necessary concession for centuries, perhaps millennia of centaur tradition.

“I have been sent as delegate for She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Known, our new mistress.” His tail swished angrily, and McGonagall noticed that he seemed extremely tense, and very angry.

“I was not aware that the centaurs had any mistresses or masters. It was this human’s understanding that the centaurs of the dark forest were a sort of patriarchal clan.”

“She is not of our choosing, but that is another matter. She claims dominance over the forest and all the fey living within a two day travel of said forest. She has sent me to inform you that the denizens of the dark forest offer their aid to the headmistress of the wizzarding school in your war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. For her own reasons, She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Known requires you to pass your requests through me.”

McGonagall was floored. “That is very admirable, noble centaur, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead. I saw his death myself.”

Firenze just shook his head. “I have been told of those events by She. There was a mistake. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is only gone, but definitely not dead. The potion used to kill him did nothing. It’s no different than when he was in the Quirrel-wizard. His soul has just been floating and seeking out his horcruxes. He has been detected in the woods by She.”

“Detected? Please explain.”

“She has said that a dark spirit is in the forest, prowling for a body to inhabit. His spirit-shape has taken over the great snake Nagili, and is known among the forest reptiles as The-Destroyer-Snake. She speaks to them of conquest and victory, and can only be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. All flee The-Destroyer-Snake, because she has strong magical powers, and can use some human magic.”

“How can she do magic with no wand?”

“Nagili is a strong snake, and before she was taken by force, she was a protector of the forest. He uses her magic, and a bit of his own. My mistress sends word to you, headmistress, that she will help you defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and asks a boon of you.”

Here it comes, she thought. The other shoe drops.

“What boon does your mistress seek of me?”

“She wishes your help to save the great snake Nagili from the one who claims her body, if possible, and she asks that you heal those forest creatures injured in the coming battles as you would your own students. In addition, she requires that those unable to fight will be protected by the human allies should the need arise. She also asks that when the war is over, you respect her position as Mistress of the Forest. She seeks you as an ally, headmistress.”

“I have to get the decisions of the other professors, centaur. I will return to you with my answer as soon as I am able.”

“She told me not to return without an answer. I await your return.”

She hurried to call an emergency staff meeting, leaving Firenze with Harry and Lupin. He would only tell Harry briefly, “I can only speak to the headmistress until negotiations are concluded. It is the way such things have been done for ages, young one.” He looked at Lupin with undisguised disgust. “I wouldn’t be able to speak freely in front of such as him, anyway.”

Lupin turned and walked away. He was used to being insulted for his illness, and had learned long ago that there was no point in arguing with those who didn’t want to see him for anything other than a monster, but it still stung slightly.

When McGonagall returned, she consulted briefly with Harry, and bowed properly again, as did Firenze. “Please give your mistress this message. The humans at the wizard school will help her reclaim Nagili, if possible, and welcome her alliance. We agree to almost all of her conditions, but we cannot promise her our help to secure the forest as her realm. That will have to be further discussed at a later date.”

Firenze returned to the forest, and McGonagall returned to the school. Great, she thought. Just what we need, another self-styled ruler.

Xxxx

Professor Snape spent the next two weeks trying to work up the courage to ask Drakia to the Halloween Ball. He had never felt so nervous in his life. The few girlfriends he had in school were the result of Slytherin ambitions. He was a powerful wizard, even then, and some of the less powerful pureblood witches who couldn’t afford a good dowry saw marriage with a future powerful wizard from a strong bloodline as a good political move. His mother had re-married after his muggle father’s suspicious death, and it was commonly believed that Severus was the son of Sonorous Snape. She had taken his name, and saddled Severus with the hateful moniker. Very few people knew of his real father.

His relationships weren’t romantic, and his mother was usually approached in a very businesslike manner by their parents. None of the relationships lasted very long, however. Apparently, the girls would rather be poor than deal with his sour demeanor.

He finally bought a new robe, (which was just like the others he owned, only new) and decided to take the risk.

“I’m sorry, Severus, but Harry already asked me, and I told him I’d go with him.”

“Potter?” He was floored. “What can you possibly see in that self-absorbed little prat?”

She frowned. “He didn’t wait so long to ask me, is what I see in him. A lady doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Anyway, he’s a nice enough boy. I don’t know why you have such a problem with him. He’s fairly harmless.”

“You have no idea how harmful he is.”

“Jealousy is hardly an attractive trait.”

“I have to teach, now.” He stormed out, bumping into Harry in the hallway. “Eavesdropping again Potter?”

“I hear such interesting things around you Professor.” Harry smiled broadly. “Woman trouble?”

“Not after December 26th.”

“Until then, Professor Snape.” Harry nodded his head in mock civility. Snape growled and stomped off to class. The third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had a bad time of it that day. Halfway through the class, he felt his arm burn, directly where the Dark Mark had been. He grabbed his arm. “Class dismissed,” he hissed through clenched teeth. No one moved. “Go, now!” They left quickly, and he headed to McGonagall’s office.

The Dark Mark was back, although oddly enough, it was a dark pink color now instead of black. Apparently, Voldemort had found a new human body. Severus could only hope he wasn’t as strong as the last time he had returned.

Xxxx

“I’m Draco Malfoy, distinguished heir of the Malfoy Estates, Death Eater,…” He tried to pump himself up in his mind, but it was hard to feel very dignified when he’d just pissed his trousers. His one comforting thought was that that slut Ginny was finally getting what she deserved. Even Dumbledore hadn’t suspected that Voldemort would use her as a Horcrux while he possessed her years ago. It had been an exceptionally dangerous gamble that had paid off very well. He had used two more of them now, however – one in Nagili, and one in Ginny. After he had transferred himself from the snake to Ginny, Nagili had escaped in the confusion of Death Eaters trying to prove their loyalty to their master, and she was probably a long way away by now.

The girl who had been Ginny Weasley laughed and stopped her Crucio curse. She wrinkled her nose at the smell and cast a cleansing spell on the boy. “Get up.”

Draco stood unsteadily. No one helped him, and he felt unbelievably alone and vulnerable. He wished Snape were here. There was an outside chance he might help Draco again, but Snape had betrayed the Dark Lady, and now Draco would never see his mentor again. Draco bowed to his tormentor. “How may I serve you, my lord – er- lady?” Voldemort laughed, a pretty girlish laugh, oddly enough.

“A little late for that, little Malfoy. I just need to decide, shall I have you meet your father’s fate, or design one specifically for you? After all, I have a reputation to uphold.”

Bellatrix spoke up, after approaching the throne and bowing. “My lady, perhaps I could punish him? He did disgrace the family after all.”

Voldemort ruffled her hair as if she was a favorite dog. Bellatrix was visually pleased, and Draco felt nauseous. “No, Bella. You can’t have this one. I need to make an example of him.” She turned to Draco. “You have one month to redeem yourself. Your father has been released from Azkaban,” Draco looked up, shocked at the news. “I suggest you work with him to save both of your worthless hides. Yes, he’s released. Money achieves much, but fear achieves much more, little Malfoy.”

She turned to the other Death Eaters. “See my pity? I allow his life for one month, so that you can see my merciful nature. Now, Crucio.” Draco tried to ponder the irony of Voldemort using the word mercy, focusing on it to distance himself from the pain. He didn’t know when he started screaming the word, but it caused Voldemort the greatest amusement.

Just before she apparated, she told Draco, “Succeed, and I will allow you to live as the least of my servants, but fail me again, and every member of your family will die.”

Draco lay still, allowing the cold stone floor to cool his hot skin. Father is coming back! he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that his powerful sire could fix all of this.

Xxxx

Lucius Malfoy wasn’t the protector Draco had hoped for. When he stumbled through the door, he headed toward his room, with Narcissa close behind, and threw his skeletal form on the bed. Through the open door, Draco saw his once powerful father spread across the bed, fully clothed, while his mother tried to pull off his shoes for him.

He ordered the house elves to make a simple broth for his father, feeling a bit of relief as he cast Crucio on a slow elf. He sat outside the room, listening to his mother cry quietly as his father snored.

Finally, Narcissa stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly. “Draco, let’s get some coffee, dear.” He was surprised that they went to the kitchen instead of the dining room. He hadn’t eaten in the kitchen since he was a child, and was forced to eat there while still learning his table manners. She must be really shaken to prefer the comfort of the servant area to the formality of the dining table.

“Draco,” she began, and he saw all the softness go from her face, leaving her once again the matriarch of the clan. He understood. It was business time, and that meant the time for family softness was gone. He pushed down his own feelings so he could deal with his tasks as the only heir. “Your father won’t be able to help you, obviously. Do you have a plan?”

“Kill Potter.”

“Something more concrete than that, I hope. The future of the entire Malfoy clan rests on you.”

“I’ll hide out in the forbidden forest. Potter always ended up there when we were in school. I’ll just wait him out.”

“It’s not much of a plan.”

“I’ll try to sneak into Hogwarts. It’s the only one I’ve got, and we’ll just have to make do.”

He stayed two days, to make sure his father was going to live. Lucius wouldn’t allow healers to see to him, which wasn’t surprising. He would rather die than have outsiders see him in such a weakened state. Before Draco left, he went to his father’s bedside.

“I have to leave now.” Draco said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“I know, son.” As he was leaving, he heard. “I’m proud of you Draco.” It was the closest Lucius had ever come to telling Draco he loved him.

As he left, he stopped at the door to say goodbye to Narcissa. “My loyalties lay here, mother. I won’t let you down.” For a moment, he was afraid she might hug him, but she just smiled and said, “I know. You use your dagger, and I’ll use our money. One of us will get what we need, little dragon.”

Xxxx

Harry had no idea what was waiting for him in the forest. Fortunately for him, he had no reason to go there. Draco waited patiently for ten days, sure that Potter would return to his old sneaking habits. He lived on berries and fungus and grubs, drinking water from the stream near his hiding place. He began to feel panicky after ten days passed, and tried to develop a new plan. He couldn’t get into Hogwarts without tripping alarms there. Someone had created a magic alarm system that he could feel whenever he approached the edge of the forest. He imagined it was probably keyed to his Dark Mark.

He grew careless, and that’s when the centaur caught him. Draco barely had the chance to cast an Avada Kedavra, which hit the centaur but seemed to have no effect, before a sharp hoof sliced him across the abdomen. As he fell, he felt cheated. He hadn’t even got to put up a proper fight. He was strong for a young wizard, though, and hung onto life tenaciously. As he passed in and out of consciousness, it was his family he thought of. Those thoughts kept him alive, because he knew if he died they probably would too. He used his magic to sustain himself until he could think of something.

He heard leaves crunching behind him, and knew he was finished this time. Instead of a beast of the forest, however, a woman stepped in front of him, and crouched to see him better.

She was thin, and exceptionally tall for a woman, well over seven feet. Her ears were long and pointed, so Draco assumed she was fey. She had long, dirty blond hair, and seemed to be about fifty years old, but with few wrinkles. Where her age really showed was in the gauntness of her face and in the tiredness of her green eyes. She wore a green dress, which draped to her ankles in a sort of gossamer fabric that gave the overall impression of grass and leaves. She walked barefoot, and Draco noticed that where she stepped, small while flowers sprouted.

She didn’t speak for a few moments, and he waited to see what would happen. He felt an odd apathy toward his own fate.

“You seem to be in a spot of trouble, young wizard,” she said. She sniffed the air, and wrinkled her nose, “Young dark wizard, I should say.”

“I’ve got enough trouble, lady. If you’re just here to judge me, I’d rather die on my own.” Malfoys lived and died with dignity.

She laughed at him, and Draco was furious. How dare she? “The little dead wizard still has claws then?”

“Malfoys always have claws, forest creature.” He tried to sound tough, but it didn’t come across. He was too weak by now, and that made him even angrier.

“I could save you, you know.”

“And I suppose you’d want me to beg you for it? No thanks. I’ll just die now, and if you don’t mind, I’d rather do it alone.”

She ignored his angry words. “I don’t usually deal with humans at all. Foolish creatures, like ants. You work so hard on your ‘civilizations’ and ‘great projects’ killing all who oppose you, human or fey, and don’t even realize how pathetic your efforts are. You destroy what cannot be rebuilt. Someday the fey will rise and destroy you, as we should, little dead wizard. The revolution will come soon, dead one.”

“Then why are you here? Go away. I have things to think about, and I don’t have time to deal with overgrown Marxist pixies.”

“The centaurs have asked me to find another servant to take their place as diplomat to the humans. They don’t want to soil their hooves on human grounds. As distasteful as the idea is, I need a human servant, and I smell fey blood in you. I’d rather deal with something partly fey than a full-blooded human.”

“I most certainly do not have fey blood in me! The Malfoys are an old and respected magical family – pureblood.” He sank back to the ground, dizzy. His outburst had taken too much from him.

“Veela, to be precise. I would estimate you’re about one quarter veela. Someone has lied to you. That’s beside the point, however. I’m growing tired of this conversation. Do you accept my offer or not?”

He was about to tell her what she could do with her offer, when he remembered that his death meant his family’s death as well. “I have a condition.”

Now it was her turn to be off kilter. “You lie in the dirt with your intestines decorating your worthless hide and you dare to barter with me?”

“Protect my family. That’s all I ask. Keep the Dark Lady from killing them and I’ll serve you as long as I live.”

She hissed like a snake, and spat on the ground. “The one who took Nagili from us is after your family?”

“Yes. I did serve her, but she betrayed us, and allowed my father to be imprisoned and tortured after he faithfully served her, or him at the time. I’ve decided to help kill her. I was trying to find a way into the school, where her enemies live. I need their help to save my family.”

Please don’t let her know legimancy, he thought frantically. He risked the lives of the entire Malfoy clan on a desperate half-truth.

“Very well. Bring them to me, and as long as they stay in the forest, I’ll protect them as if they were my own wards. They must swear allegiance to me, however. If they won’t serve me, they must at least swear never to act against me. And I require a death oath.” Draco assumed she meant an unbreakable promise.

“I’ll do it.”

She healed him enough to save his life, but left him somewhat injured. “Swear to me, and take my mark, or I’ll let you fertilize the trees.”

“I already have a mark.”

“Let me see.”

He rolled up his sleeve, and showed her the dark mark. She traced it with her finger, and he felt it grow hot and burn him. The snake began to move under his skin, hissing and then screaming as she tried to remove it from him.

She finally removed her hand and looked Draco in the eye. “I can’t remove it. Whatever effect it has on you is bound to your soul, and will probably be there the rest of your life. It might go away when Voldemort dies.” He flinched at the name. So she wasn’t powerful enough to remove his mark, but she could speak Voldemort’s name without fear? Interesting. “It would have been less painful if I could remove the mark before placing my own, but…”

She rolled up his right sleeve and put her hand on his mark. He almost immediately passed out from the pain. When he awoke, he saw a green Celtic knot circling his arm, where the Dark Mark had been. The dark mark lay faded but recognizable under the new green mark. “What are you?”

“You don’t need to know that. I’ll call you Vel. I’d rather be reminded of your Veela blood than that human taint. I like you a bit better that way.”

Draco was about to protest, but she said, “Go, Vel, and get your family. Your old master was probably alerted when I replaced her mark.”

Draco moved far enough away from the Hogwart’s wards to apparate, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Xxxx

Snape and Chang formed an uneasy peace, returning to their daily routine. The ball, however, was excruciating for Snape. He had been approached by Jul Jankles, a young store assistant in a potions supply store he frequented. Apparently, his status as The-Man-Who-Killed-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made him romantically desirable now, or at least politically desirable. She prattled on, and he did his best to appear to listen while avoiding staring at Drakia and Harry, who seemed to be having a good time. He decided the best thing to do was be attentive to Jul, and hope Drakia noticed.

After the ball, he saw Jul home and returned to the comfort of the dungeons, where he worked on some calculations for a new potion he was designing. He didn’t get much work done, though. He kept picturing Harry kissing Drakia. After a while, it bothered him enough that he quit working and just paced around his office, mumbling to himself. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more, that he might have lost Drakia, or that Harry had bested him at something.

About an hour later, he heard a soft knock at the door. Drakia was there, in her everyday robes, holding an unopened bottle of expensive fire whisky. “Pax?”

“Date finished so soon?”

“I notice you’re not out with the little blonde thing.” Did he detect a note of jealousy in that?

“Too young for my taste. She’s barely legal.” He saw Drakia frown. “So where’s yours?”

She laughed, a harsh bark of a sound. “Too young for my taste, actually. Handsey, too.” That last part was paybacks. She knew it would bother him.

“Did he force himself on you? Because if he did, I’ll…”

“Woah, Severus. No, he didn’t, and I can take care of myself, thank you. Anyway, let’s not talk about him.” She set the bottle on the table, and transfigured two glasses. “I hate dancing.”

“Me too.” They spent the night discussing the latest potions theories and gossip, as well as sharing stupid student stories. It was somewhere between romance and a good friendship. She did let him quickly kiss her goodnight when she left, however.

Xxxx

Draco apparated into the formal reception room of Malfoy manner to a smell he was familiar with – blood.

“No!” He yelled, and sprinted toward the sounds of battle coming from his parent’s bedroom. He leapt over a sprawled pile of bodies in black cloaks that were blocking the doorway, and jumped into the room, wand in hand. His heart swelled with pride at the sight of his mother fighting like a mad woman against Bellatrix Lestrange, while his emaciated father cast spell after spell around him with whip like speed. Narcissa would have been a dueling champion in school, but she had always felt that such doings were distinctly unladylike. Lucius had no such qualms, and was one of the best duelists in all of England.

“Avada Kedavra,” his aunt screamed, but Narcissa was too fast to be caught, and ducked the spell effortlessly.

“Predictable as always, dearest sister,” she teased, hoping to enrage Bellatrix. It worked. The mad witch screamed and leaped at Narcissa, only to be stopped with a simple stunner.

Crab and Goyle seniors were the only Death Eaters left of the small assault group. When Bellatrix fell, they sprinted toward the door, only to meet an enraged Draco. He opened his mount to cast the killing curse, but his Green Mark tingled, and he found himself shouting, “Entanglus!” instead. Huge ivy vines sprang though the floor and wound themselves around the attackers, binding them tightly, but leaving them alive.

“Come quickly,” Draco said. “I have a safe place for us. I’ll explain later.” He helped Lucius out of bed, as the older Malfoy had lost what little strength he had from the fight.

Draco moved the bodies away from the door so Lucius could make it out without stumbling over them. He ran to his room and hastily threw together his most precious and practical belongings, picking only the things he couldn’t do without. He noticed ironically that most of the things he chose were actually worth very little money, while he left behind priceless, useless treasures. A little late for life lessons now, he thought.

He went to his parent’s bedroom, to find them with two suitcases each, and ready to leave. Just before they left, his mother turned back to face the three Death Eaters left alive. Bellatrix was still unconscious, and Crab and Goyle lay bound, with their mouths covered and silenced by vines. They were uselessly struggling, but when they saw Narcissa’s attention focused on them, they stopped and tried to speak to her, even though they only made mumbling noises through the vines.

“Avada Kedavra,” she said twice, using as little emotion as she would expend ordering her house elves to bring her slippers and The Quibbler (a secret vice). She turned and watched her sister.

“Draco, dear,” she said, without moving her eyes from Belletrix, “When I wake her, could you use that handy entangling curse? I want her to feel helpless as she struggles against the vines.”

Draco wasn’t surprised. They couldn’t admit it publicly, because she was a Death Eater, but his aunt had always been an embarrassment to the family as far as his parents were concerned. She had never directly turned against the Malfoys, however. It was the unforgivable curse in a pureblood home. Family was the sacred cow that must never be slaughtered. He shuddered as he realized Crab and Goyle were the lucky Death Eaters in the room.

“Enervate,” Narcissa said.

“Entanglus,” Draco said again, watching with interest how the vines seemed to be almost intelligent in how they wrapped the body just enough to immobilize without causing pain, or stopping breathing.

Narcissa walked over to her, bent down, and moved the vines covering Bellatrix's mouth so that she could speak freely.

“Why, Bella? Assassination, poisoning, dueling to the death – all those have been properly used in the Malfoy clan to settle disputes, but never betrayal.”

“Filth!” Bellatrix screamed. “Blood traitors! You are the traitors to the family, and you will suffer the traitor’s curse, not me.”

“Ah yes, the curse,” Narcissa said, and touched her sisters face just above her right eye, where a dark spot was developing. “We never did know exactly what grandfather had cursed the family with, did we? We’ll find out soon enough, though. You already have a dark spot growing just above your eye. I’d like to stay and find out what deviltry grandfather devised for traitors to our house, but I’m expecting guests, so you’ll have to excuse me. I want to make sure we aren’t here when they arrive.”

She took her sister’s wand and snapped it in half, dropping the broken wand in front of her. Narcissa walked regally from the room without ever looking back.

Draco followed her. “Mother, what about aunt Bellatrix? We can’t just leave her here. She’ll come after us the first chance she gets.”

“I don’t want to risk the curse myself. It might be considered a clean killing, or a betrayal. I don’t know. It’s safest to leave her alive, and I think the curse will take care of revenge for me.”

As they left, Draco’s Green Mark tingled, and he felt the oddest compulsion. “I’ll be back shortly,” he told his parents. “I have to take care of one last thing.”

He ran to his room and grabbed a handful of socks. He summoned all the house elves, and they appeared trembling before him, ready to be punished as usual. He handed them all a sock. They stared at him and began to cry.

“No master,” said Cricket, the kitchen elf. “Don’t send us away. We serve house Malfoy. Please, we’ll do better.”

“I can’t explain, Cricket. You just have to go, now. Go to Hogwarts, if you want. I’m sure you’ll be welcomed there. It’s not right to own another being,” he said, feeling as if another person were saying the words. What was happening to him? He sounded like Granger now, and he was voluntarily throwing away valuable Malfoy property. He left a stunned group of house elves and ran back to his parents, wondering how much will he had left to him.

The Green Lady, as he called her, was worse than Voldemort in some ways. At least Voldemort had been basically human, which meant that Draco had known what to expect. And Voldemort only used the Dark Mark to summon or punish those who took too long to answer a summons. The Green Lady seemed to have a power similar to the Imperious curse built into her Green Mark.

“We have to apparate into the forbidden forest, and I’ll take us from there,” Draco told his parents. “House Malfoy has a new benefactor, unfortunately.”

Lucius couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in his son’s voice.

“Whatever you do, don’t get a mark,” Draco said, and his father grabbed his wrist, frowning. He pulled up the sleeve of Draco’s shirt, and was saddened by what he saw.

“It’s another Mark,” Lucius said. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a long story. The short version is, she saved all of our lives, at the cost of my soul.”

“We’ve got to stop giving away our souls like this,” Lucius said.

“Very funny, Dad.”

Xxxx

Harry thought that his Defense classes were going much better. The students were still afraid of him, but under the pressure he applied, (some of them felt that their lives were literally threatened during some of his lessons) they were flourishing. It made him feel fulfilled to know that if they met Death Eaters on a dark night, they might live through the fight because of him.

He was on his way to meet Hermione for lunch, when he turned a corner and ran full on into Ron Weasley. Harry bounced off Ron’s chest and landed on the floor hard.

“Bloody growth spurt!” he spat at Ron. Ron didn’t laugh, which was odd. Their friendship had changed status over the years to the “guy I used to hang out with at school” level, but Harry was shocked at Ron’s appearance. Even at the worst of times, Ron had been the one who was the level headed, sane one in the group. He tempered Harry’s guilt complex and impetuosity, as well as Hermione’s obsessive nature. Now, however, he looked more like a street beggar than a Weasley.

His face was pale, and his eyes were sunken and hollow looking. His clothes were dirty, and he looked like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Ron, what’s wrong? You look awful.”

“Ginny’s gone, Harry.” Harry could hear the anguish in his voice, and for a minute, he thought Ron might break into tears in the hallway. Harry pulled him into an empty classroom and they sat at a student table.

“What do you mean gone, Ron? Voldemort’s dead. Who else could have anything against Ginny?”

Ron smiled. “You always did think she was perfect, didn’t you? She does have a few enemies, but that’s not the worst of it. Her hand on the clock freaked out about a week ago. It flew to mortal peril, and then it just turned black, spun around the clock several times, and fell off. We don’t know what it means, but she’s nowhere to be found. I was hoping maybe you’ve heard from her.”

“I saw her about a month ago in Hogsmeade, and we had a quick lunch together. She talked a lot about University, but that’s about it. We told old school stories and had a couple of ales. She was fine, then.”

Harry thought that Ron looked even sadder now, if that was possible. “What about Hermione, Ron? They were close in school.”

“That’s awkward, but I’ll do it for Ginny.”

“What happened with you two anyway?” Harry found himself back in the role he had played so often at school, being referee to Granger/Weasley drama.

“She got mad at mum and called her an ‘over controlling self-righteous harpy’. When I didn’t take her side in a stupid argument about how long muffins should cook, she threw her ring at me and ran out crying. I want to talk to her, just haven’t got the guts to do it yet.”

“I’d say this would be a good time for it. You need all the friends you can get, mate.”

“Might not be a bad idea.”

Xxxx

That was the day Snape discovered a new level of annoyance with Potter. He went to Drakia’s office, with an excuse about a conflict in schedules that he had purposely created so he would have a reason to talk with her. As he entered, his eyes caught sight of a large vase full of expensive red roses. Suddenly, schedules were the farthest thing from his mind.

“Potter?” he asked, gesturing at the roses.

Drakia sighed. “Always the subtle one, aren’t you? Yes, Harry sent me roses, and I think it’s a lovely gesture.”

“A bit gauche isn’t it? A dozen red roses are hardly original.”

“Actually, it’s eleven roses.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me he used the old ‘you’re the twelfth rose’ Schick. That’s older than Merlin.”

Drakia looked uncomfortable. “He’s just a kid Severus. Give him a break. Actually, I’m not particularly interested in him. He’s not really my type.”

Snape realized he was making a tactical error. “I apologize, Drakia. I need to learn to mind my own business more. Actually, I was hoping we could discuss the scheduling issue with the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw second period on Tuesdays.”

Drakia smiled. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we discuss it over lunch tomorrow?”

Severus lost his train of thought completely. “I’d like that, actually. How does the Boar and Thestral sound?”

“Sounds lovely. See you tomorrow then.”

As he left, he felt off kilter. Did an attractive woman just ask him out? He bumped into a Gryffindor first year on the way to the dungeons. “Ten points from… ah, never mind. Just go.” He didn’t see the shocked look from the students around them. Gryffindor torture just wasn’t as important today.

Xxxx

Lupin watched Drakia eating breakfast. Several things about her bothered him, and her eating habits were on the list. It wasn’t her manners; those would put the most arrogant pureblood to shame. It was her food choice. She never ate bread, dairy, or fruit – only meat and a small amount of green vegetables. He found Harry after breakfast and asked to speak with him later.

Harry found him after classes and they went to Lupin’s sparse quarters to talk. Harry noticed that the furniture was all second hand and shabby, and it looked more like a poor University student’s quarters than a teacher’s living area. He knew that it was because of the ministry decree that forced employers to pay non-human creatures half wages. Harry didn’t understand the reasoning behind the decree, and set it down to simple prejudice. He wished that Lupin would accept some aid from his friends occasionally, but the old wolf was too proud, and too sensitive about his disease.

“So why are we here?” Harry asked. It was rare for Lupin to call attention to himself even this much.

“It’s that Drakia, Harry.”

“You’re not still on about that, are you? She’s just a Defense teacher.”

“An attractive Defense teacher, you mean. I think you don’t notice her oddness because her legs keep your attention.”

“What’s the point here?” Harry tried to keep his impatience out of his voice, but he was having difficulty. “I really like her, you know.”

“I know, and it may be nothing. I just have a feeling she’s much more than she seems. Dumbledore trusted her, so maybe I’m off track here. I don’t know.”

“Dumbledore trusted Snape too, and look where that got him.”

Lupin brushed off Harry’s rudeness. “She doesn’t smell human, Harry. And she doesn’t act human, sometimes. And her diet bothers me.”

Harry laughed. “Her diet? You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not bloody kidding, Harry! Humans are omnivorous. She’s carnivorous. Eats a bit of veg, and the rest is rare meat, like a predator. It’s the same diet I eat.”

“Ok, so she doesn’t get balanced eater of the year award. I don’t see why that’s such a big deal.”

“It’s not just that. It’s a lot of other, little things. You saw her animagus form. She downplayed it, but it would take a wizard more powerful than Dumbledore to pull that off. I don’t even know if Merlin could have done that. And another thing I noticed is the way she does magic. She’s an extremely powerful healer; we saw that on the train, but I’ve never seen her do any magic since.”

“That is odd.”

“Yeah, and when she did magic on the train, all of it was wandless. I don’t even think I’ve ever seen her wand.”

“She is powerful. Maybe she doesn’t need a wand. I’ve heard of a few wizards like that.”

Lupin snorted. “Sure. Merlin class wizards. Which brings me to something else. Why would such a powerful wizard teach non magical combat? It makes no sense at all.”

“Dumbledore thought we needed it, obviously.”

“Sure, but why send all the way to China for a hideously powerful mage, only to have her teach a subject as far away from her strong points as possible?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because she’s good at it?”

“That’s just it, Harry. I watched a couple of her classes. She’s a decent teacher, but nothing special, at least not in the street fighting area. And she’s doing something that Madam Houche would be better at.”

“Houche?”

“Yeah, one time I saw her in a bar with a broken wine bottle and a table leg. She flattened the place.”

“I always knew she was tough.”

“Here’s the kicker. I’ve been thinking back over the spells she used on the train, and I started searching for them in the library. I even got Hermione involved, because she’s the best researcher I know. You know what I found?”

“What?” Harry was getting interested in spite of his resolve to protect Drakia.

“Nothing.” He sat back with a smug look on his face, as if that explained everything.

“Err, I don’t understand, Remus.”

“Those spells don’t exist in any book in the entire library, so on a whim, I got a book from Beauxbottons, because they specialize in alternative magic over there. Two of the healing spells she used are discussed in the book. Here, take a look.”

He pulled an ancient text off his dresser, called Dragon Magic and opened it carefully to a middle page. It had been written by Charlie Weasley, oddly enough.

“These spells have been rarely seen, and haven’t been properly analyzed yet. They are used only by the fey, and human wizards have had no luck replicating them. Indeed, many human wizards who attempt fey magic are rendered permanently insane.

“Dextrous Extensious is a spell that an unusually friendly dragon explained to me, after using it to heal a deep wound in his mate. The mage magically extends his or her fingers, claws, or tail into the mind or vital organ of the wounded creature, and manipulates the injury from inside the body, thus drastically improving chances of survival.

Breath of Life is another spell I witnessed in a flock of wild dragons in Romania. Whereas a human can only stabilize a person having trouble breathing or with a dangerously low pulse rate, dragons can actually match their vitals with another creature, controlling the injured creature’s breath and pulse rate. It’s a particularly dangerous spell, and only available to adult dragons. If the injured creature dies, the healer will die as well.”

Lupin continued, “I saw her use those two spells on the train.”

Harry was intrigued. “You really think she’s a dragon? She’d have to be a really ancient dragon, to be able to hold a human form for so long, though. What would a dragon have to do with Hogwarts? And why wouldn’t she use her magic?”

“Why did Fawkes pick Dumbledore? He always seemed to have an affinity with the fey. And since her supposed animagus form is a dragon, it’s not that great of a logic leap, is it? She probably doesn’t use magic to protect her identity, because using non-human magic would give her away.”

“That’s great, then! We need all the help we can get, and a dragon at Hogwarts can only help us. You have to admit, it’s pretty hot, too.”

Lupin wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know, Harry. I don’t know much about dragons, but I do know that Slytherin chose the dragon as his symbol for a reason. They’re known to be manipulative in the extreme, and mostly concerned with power and wealth. I don’t think we should trust her, Harry. She’s a dangerous fey creature!”

“Remus,” Harry said cautiously, “I hate to say this, but you sound like Snape when you say that.”

“What?”

“That’s all the things he said about you, and they weren’t true. You’re not like other werewolves. Maybe she’s not the stereotypical dragon. We should give her a chance.”

Lupin thought for a moment and then nodded. “That’s very Gryffindor of you, Harry. Perhaps you’re right. I don’t like people assuming things about me. I will be keeping an eye on her, though.”

Harry grinned. “I already keep two eyes on her.”

“I’m sure you do, cub. If it wasn’t for Tonks, I might keep a couple eyes on her myself.”

Xxxx

When they apparated into the forest, the first thing Draco and Narcissa did was wrap Lucius in a blanket they pulled from their bags. It wasn’t very cold out, for November, but he was shaking with a chill. Draco was worried. He needed to build a shelter, but he had a feeling the Green Lady wouldn’t take kindly to him killing trees for wood.

He wondered how to contact her, and then rubbed the Green Mark experimentally, sending her a message in his mind he hoped she would receive. The Mark tingled, and she apparated soundlessly before him. Soundless apparation was theoretically impossible, he remembered.

“Is this all?” She gestured toward his parents.

“That’s all, Lady. My father is ill. I need shelter for him.”

“Come deeper into the forest, and I’ll make you a place.” Lucius rose with a groan, and they followed her silently. Draco and Narcissa supported Lucius between them. They walked deep into the forest, and eventually came to a small lake with an island in the middle. She easily levitated Narcissa and Lucius to the island, and then crossed the water herself, leaving Draco behind.

She spoke no words, but moved her hands in the air. When she moved her hands, thick vines sprang up, forming a living hut.

“The centaurs will bring you what you need. You are not to leave the island unless you plan to serve me as your son has chosen.”

“We will take no new Mark,” Lucius said. “One is bad enough. I’m sorry Draco took the mark.”

“Then you must make a death-oath not to betray my presence or intentions to my enemies.”

The Malfoys made an unbreakable promise, and entered their new home. The Green Lady cast a spell on the vine-hut, warming it permanently, and then gave Lucius some of her strength as a mild healing spell he didn’t recognize.

“Come, Vel. I have a lot to tell you, and then you will have work to do.”

Xxxx

Severus decided that Saturday lunch with Drakia was the best date he’d ever had, although that wasn’t saying much, considering he’d had very few dates. It was good to be with someone who wasn’t with him for ambitious reasons. They drank beer, had some fine fish and chips, and played darts for hours. He only won about half the games, but he didn’t mind, which was unusual for him.

They decided to walk back to Hogwarts, and went the long way, through fields and across a small brook. As they walked through the autumn leaves, he realized that the sound of crunching leaves used to be a troublesome failure for a spy. Now it actually didn’t bother him. He was changing.

After he left her at her quarters, she smiled, gave him a quick but sincere kiss. “Let’s do this again sometime, Severus. I had fun.”

When she shut the door he felt a small amount of anxiety. He’d never been on a second date before.

Xxxxx

The next Order meeting was torture for Snape. As Mad Eye Moody prattled on about constant vigilance in the form of automated magical defense systems, his mark burned him. At first, it was simply the usual summoning burn, which he was used to and could ignore. Apparently, Voldemort had other plans for him though. The mark grew hotter until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Rather than have the others see him in pain, he excused himself to use the lavatory. He slumped against the wall in the hallway, holding his arm and trying to force himself to breathe normally. The pain grew worse, and he held his arm to his chest, fighting the darkness that grew around him.

No one even really missed him until Lupin smelled the metallic twang of blood just as Moody noticed the red flow seeping in under the door. Both of them rushed to the hallway, wands extended, to find Snape huddled against the wall with his head on his knees. He groaned and tried to stir.

McGonagall was the first to reach him. She laid him on the floor and looked for his injury. “I can’t see where the blood’s coming from.”

Tonks cast a cleansing spell, and saw that the wound was his dark mark, which was flowing like a fresh wound.

Moody tried some healing spells, but nothing worked. The last spell actually seemed to make the bleeding worse.

“We have to do something.” Hermione said. “He can’t handle this much longer.”

“We have to get him to Voldemort,” Harry said. “The wound from slave marks just increases in severity until the slave returns to his master.”

“Where did you learn that?” Lupin asked.

“Er, I’ve been doing some extra reading. We’ll have to wake him so he can take us there.”

They began casting spells designed to give the user more energy, and finally he opened his eyes, but he didn’t seem to know where he was or what was happening to him. Finally, Moody roared, “Get us to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you bloody useless git.”

They all grabbed him right before his hand touched the bloody mark, and they found themselves being flung across vast spaces.

They landed in a large graveyard. What is it with Voldemort and graveyards? Harry wondered. He noticed that as soon as they obeyed the summons, Snape’s bleeding stopped, but he lay motionless near them.

Everyone had their wands out, ready to kill whatever they might find in the trap. They were unprepared to see frightened Ginny Weasley rushing toward them.

“Harry,” she cried, “I was so scared.” She flung himself into his arms and sobbed dramatically. Harry was so glad to see her again he never even questioned her presence.

She explained to him that Voldemort had brought her here for some spell, but had sensed them all coming and had apparated away. It wasn’t long before the two of them were at The Burrow on a shabby but comfortable couch. Ginny rested in his arms, and Harry found himself rethinking their relationship. It had really scared him to lose her. No one could explain why her hand on the clock simply wouldn’t stay anymore, though. Molly thought it had something to do with the trauma she’d been through.

Snape woke up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, with Drakia beside him. “Bloody hell, I’m in here more than Potter in his first year,” he said.

“Welcome back, Severus. Don’t scare me again like that.” Drakia seemed overly cheerful to him. Had she really been worried about him?

He was about to get up when he was met with a stern faced Poppy. “Oh no you don’t! You stay right here and rest for the rest of the day. Magically produced blood isn’t going to make you well immediately. Drink this.” She held a cup of brown liquid out to him. He sniffed it experimentally.

“I don’t need a sleeping draught.”

“My ward, my rules, Professor. Drink. Now.”

He knew better than to argue with a mediwitch. He’d only done it once, and Poppy had changed the potion he objected to, infusing it with a musky rotten taste and then she had forced him to drink it anyway by threatening to call for the Headmaster. She was definitely the alpha-dog here.

He decided the hospital wing was much nicer with Drakia there.

Xxxxx

The entire agenda for the next Order meeting was analyzing the failure of the potion that was supposed to make Voldemort mortal. A lot of the criticism fell on Snape.

“Well, how could I bloody know?” he yelled. “I didn’t come up with the potion. Dumbledore did. I just assumed it would work.”

“Yes,” Harry said, “but you added that catalyst. That had to be the problem.”

“Are you questioning my potion making abilities, Professor Potter?” he hissed.

“I wouldn’t dare, Professor Snape. Especially since that last potion worked so very well.”

McGonagall felt that things were getting out of hand. “Gentlemen, let’s save personal grudges for later.” They reluctantly turned their attention back to her. “There is an alternate explanation that makes much more sense to me.”

“Out with it woman; what is it?” Moody growled.

“Professor Dumbledore never was very good with potions.”

Snape groaned. “I forgot. I even had to make his blasted sherbet lemons. I hated doing that.”

“You made candy for him?” Harry asked. “Why?”

“You didn’t know? He had me put a calming draught in those. That’s why he was always offering them to students.”

McGonagall’s jaw dropped, “Merlin’s balls! I saw him pop five of those in a business meeting one time.”

Snape said, “I know. He was really relaxed, wasn’t he? Don’t even get me started on what he had Professor Sprout growing in the back of the greenhouse.”

There was light laughter across the table as they remembered their fallen comrade’s quirks. Then there was sadness, but it was a gentle sadness, faded with time and tinged with love and memory.

“What will we do then?” Molly asked. “He could have made more of those Horcruxes by now, and destroying the last one killed Dumbledore.”

No one really had any good ideas about that. Finally Harry spoke up, “Here’s an idea. Let’s just forget the Horcruxes. He’s not that subtle, so he won’t stay hidden for long when he comes back. Now that the magic community knows he has the ability to return from the dead, we won’t have such a hard time convincing them the next time he returns.”

“So what do we do?” Tonks asked.

“Hunt the Death Eaters, and wait for him to return. Dumbledore was right; our power lies in our allies. His power is really in fear, though. Sure he’s strong, but we could take him alone.” This seemed obvious to Harry. He wondered how the others never saw it before.

“And when he returns?”

Harry grinned. “Who’s up for some Dark Lord hunting? We’ll just kill him until he runs out of Horcruxes. He can’t make them forever because they involve splitting his soul. Eventually, he won’t have enough to split again. And then we’re done.”

Silence. Tonks shrugged. “Well, we don’t have a better plan, and we can still look for the horcruxes while we’re looking for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”