The Journey of the Phoenix

-Chapter 8: Before the storm-

Arthur Weasley was surprised to return to a completely empty Burrow that evening. He had known that Bill would dine out with Fleur, but where was Molly?

He looked all around the kitchen in case she had left a note. Nothing. His eyes fell on the magical clock; Molly's hand was pointing at 'mortal peril'. What else is new, he thought scornfully.

He opened the fridge and retrieved a container. Yesterday's soup. He poured some in a plate and cast a Heating Charm; the soup started sizzling and a good amount of it spilt around. Sighing in frustration, he grabbed a cloth and wiped the drips. Then, not wanting to cause another disaster, he decided to wait until it cooled down a little to eat it.

By the time Molly returned, he was done eating and was staring at the plate. Somehow, that Cleaning Spell he had performed seemed to have left it dirtier than it had originally been.

"Arthur, you're back!" she exclaimed. "Did you have dinner already?"

"I had some soup," he said, pointing at the plate.

She pulled out her wand and moved the plate to the sink. With another couple of spells, water started running and the sponge foamed and started rubbing the plate. "Sorry about that, darling," she said, taking off her travelling cloak, "but Albus contacted me totally out of the blue."

"Order assignment?"

"Sort of." She left her cloak on a chair and headed towards the fridge. "He wanted me to visit Tonks."

"She's still depressed?"

"Worse than ever." Molly served herself the remaining soup and heated it up without problems.

"Love can do that."

Molly suppressed a grin. "So, you say she's in love?"

Arthur handed his wife a spoon. "I'm sure they appreciate your keeping their secret, darling, but the rest of us are no fools." He sat in a chair near her, as she started eating. "I'm still not sure where Remus is standing, though. Sometimes I'd swear he's in love with her too."

Molly chuckled. "He is."

Arthur looked puzzled. "He is?"

"Yeah. But he has age, financial and werewolf issues."

Arthur shook his head in dismay. "I wouldn't expect him to be so silly."

"He calls it 'reasonable'."

"It's still silly."

"I agree."

-----

The past few days had been quite annoying, Snape reflected. With the final Quidditch match only a few days ahead, all the students - particularly the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws - had been engaging in catfights or hexing each other in the corridors, not to mention that half the members of the teams were constantly nauseous.

He had just settled an 'argument' between some seventh-year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, removing several points from both teams, and was now looking for Malfoy - he made sure to keep a vigilant eye upon him whenever possible - when a girl's voice coming from the boys' bathroom stopped him dead in his tracks.

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

He rushed to the door and banged it open. There lay Malfoy, in a pool of blood, bearing the unmistakable signs of being hit with a well-executed Sectumsempra curse. And, what was worse, Potter was kneeling over him and uttering in a way that suggested that he had probably been the one to cast it.

Snape shoved the boy away, drew his wand and started murmuring the countercurse to heal Malfoy. All the while, though, his blood was boiling with rage. What was Potter doing, casting such a brutal curse on a classmate with the risk of killing him? And, come to think of it, where had he found this curse anyway? It was Snape who had invented it, many years ago, when he was still a student, and it was a weapon he had preferred not to give away - neither his victims, nor even the Death Eaters who had seen him using it knew how to perform it. And now seeing it cast by Potter?

When the countercurse healed everything it could, Snape half-lifted Malfoy into a standing position.

"You need the hospital wing," he said. "There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that... Come..." He supported him across the bathroom. Once at the door, he turned around and, trying to hide his fury under a layer of coldness, he spoke. "And you, Potter... You wait here for me."

He helped Malfoy to the hospital wing, and, after briefly explaining to Madam Pomfrey what treatment he would need, he returned to the bathroom. Harry was there, slightly shaking, a look of terror in his eyes.

Snape ordered Moaning Myrtle away - who, after alerting him about the incident, had been wailing and howling in a most irritating way - and turned to Harry.

"I didn't mean it to happen," the boy said quickly. "I didn't know what that spell did."

That was little comfort for Snape. "Apparently I underestimated you, Potter." He was now speaking calmly, having had the time to regain composure. "Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you that spell?"

"I - read about it somewhere."

Read. The word triggered his memory. Of course, he hadn't told anyone... but he had noted it somewhere...

"Where?" he inquired, wondering what Potter would be ready to spill.

"It was - a library book. I can't remember what it was call-"

"Liar." So Harry Potter was not as brave as his father, it seemed. Snape was sure that, had it been James Potter in these shoes, he would have boldly stated the source of the spell at once - and then tried to put the blame on the creator of the spell.

Snape gazed into Harry's eyes, trying to invade into his mind. The boy was showing more resistance than in their previous encounters, but Snape could make out a memory of an abused Advanced Potion-Making book - his Advanced Potion-Making book.

"Bring me your schoolbag and all of your schoolbooks," he said. "All of them. Bring them to me here. Now!"

Harry turned at once and splashed out of the bathroom. When he was alone in the bathroom, Snape allowed a smug smile to spread over his face.

He should have guessed. That explained Slughorn's insistent praising of Potter's potion-making, while the boy hadn't shown any special talent in the past five years. Somehow he had got hold of his old book - probably forgot his own and borrowed one from the cupboard... It was ironic, really. Snape had forgotten he had left it there; he hadn't used it in years. How many times, though, had he wondered what would happen if the book reached somebody else's hands... With every word he added in, this question floated in his mind. And of all the people who could have come across it...

Yet, the thought of Potter with his book felt, in some way... satisfying. Potter was putting everything into use; his improved Potion recipes, his practical advice - he had thought of feeding a bezoar to the poisoned Weasley boy... no wonder where he had got the clue from - and even his spells. Obviously, putting blindly his trust in the Half-Blood Prince, because he was not the kind of boy to use such a vile curse of his own accord. Snape wondered, what would Potter do if he found out whose had that book originally been?

If anyone had watched their relationship since the first time their paths crossed, some five and a half years ago, they would have concluded that there was mutual hatred between the two of them. And they'd be wrong. True, Harry Potter hated Severus Snape with all his might - and had some good reasons to. But Snape's loathing did not emerge that much from the boy itself, but rather from what he represented for him: Years of being laughed at. A miserable past that still haunted his nightmares. A failure that had left a great moral debt and responsibility on his shoulders.

Potter would soon be back with his books. And, Snape was sure, Weasley or Granger's copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It was better this way; Potter had a mission ahead of him, and he needed all the help he could get. As Severus Snape, he'd be unable to help him - but as the Half-Blood Prince, he could provide him with some useful tricks to fight the Dark Lord.

Still... he couldn't let him get away with it. First, because he could not afford to earn himself any strange looks from the Death Eaters for leaving Harry Potter unpunished after he had nearly killed Draco Malfoy. And second, because objectively, using such a curse on a student had to mean detention. An awful detention, at that. McGonagall would support him wholeheartedly. Besides, paying for the consequences of his action would also help Potter learn from his mistakes: Never use a spell before trying it on an inanimate object first. Never trust blindly what you've been given.

Yes, he and Potter were on the same side. He would protect the boy, giving up his life if he needed to. But protection and leniency were two different things... different and very much unrelated.

-----

Dumbledore looked at the sallow-faced man with an expression of good-natured astonishment.

"I have always had a very high opinion of you, Severus," he said seriously, "but after what you just told me I am starting to think I had actually underestimated you."

"You could never have," Snape voiced his trust in the elderly wizard.

"Maybe not the wizard in you, but I surely have underestimated the person. Your will to help Harry never ceases to amaze me, especially since I know everything that happened with James."

Snape's face darkened. "I owe it to him. And, besides, you could hardly call me lenient. Potter is going to miss the Quidditch final."

"This is sad," Dumbledore said earnestly. "But, seeing it strictly from the aspect of what he did, it is a reasonable price to pay. You are right; he must learn to be more cautious with handling magic."

Snape spoke slowly, in a low voice, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "...That was a very Dark curse."

"I beg to differ."

Dumbledore's serious, calm tone made Snape look up and face him again.

"It might look bad," the elder man continued. "But let us not forget that what makes a curse good or bad is the purpose it serves, rather than its nature." To prove his point, he flicked his wand and made an apple appear out of thin air. Then, he pointed at it, and said quietly "Sectumsempra." The apple sliced in two.

With a pleasant smile, he offered one of the pieces to Snape.

-----

A couple of weeks passed. Dumbledore, who had suspected that one of the Horcruxes was hidden in the cave where young Tom Riddle used to terrorise his victims, spent the best part of them trying to locate it. In the end, his research paid; when he returned to Hogwarts that evening, it was with the certainty that he had, eventually, discovered it.

Once he entered the school grounds, he conjured his Patronus, a silver, glowing phoenix, and sent it to Severus Snape with a message: 'Meet me at my office.' By the time he entered his office, the younger man was already there.

"Professor!" he exclaimed, sounding relieved. "I was afraid something bad happened to you."

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile. "Not yet." He made a move towards his chair, took of his travelling cloak and haphazardly hung it on its back. "But I suspect that something will, very soon, which is why I wanted to see you."

Snape nodded, his face full of anxiousness.

"I shall be leaving with Harry very shortly," Dumbledore continued. "There is a very dangerous venture I have to make, one I am not certain I will survive. If I do, though -"

"I shall heal you."

"You will kill me."

"No!"

Dumbledore's face became stern. Snape lowered his head. They had discussed this many times, always planning about 'later'. Since the beginning, he had dreaded the day when there would be no more 'later', and now this day had finally arrived.

"It is time," the elder man went on. "Time for you to shatter any scepticism about your loyalty to Voldemort, and make yourself the most respected among his followers. The Order will miss its spy, but your new status will render you safer, while putting you in the perfect position to help our side during the final battle."

"But, if the Order is not aware of my purpose -"

"Harry will be, and he is the only one who needs to be. The Order is merely seeking to contain Death Eater attacks and help keep everyone safe. The one who will act directly against Voldemort will be Harry, and it is his team that you will be joining from now on. Which brings us back to why I originally called you here."

Dumbledore walked to the cabinet beside the door to retrieve the Pensieve, which he then placed on the desk.

"In order for Harry to be assured of where your true loyalty lies, we shall put here some of our memories for him to see. I shall then enchant the Pensieve, to ensure that no one else has access to them."

Snape nodded, his face even whiter than usual.

"Firstly, I want your memories from the day Sirius Black sent you after Lupin."

Snape swallowed hard, looking for all the world as if he were ready to faint. Then, he pulled out his wand, put its tip on his temple and, after concentrating for a moment, retrieved a memory, which he gently placed inside the Pensieve. He then repeated this course of action for another memory.

"Excellent," Dumbledore commented. "Next, I shall provide him with my memory from the day you decided to leave Voldemort's side and came to find me."

So he did. Snape watched intently.

"I now need your memory of your attempt to kill Voldemort."

"I had been wearing James Potter's Invisibility Cloak," Snape pointed out. "He will be unable to see me."

"He will be able to hear your voice," Dumbledore countered.

Snape surrendered the memory.

"Do you think he should see the memory of your coming to see me afterwards?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape shifted uncomfortably. "If you think so, Professor."

"Then, I shall provide him with it." After placing the memory in the Pensieve, he spoke again. "Last memory I shall ask you for is the one from when we first discussed our plan, early in June."

Snape's face seemed to relax a little when he finished this.

"As soon as you leave the room, I shall also add the memory of this conversation. Now please return to your study."

For a moment, Snape stared at the elder man without speaking, his eyes revealing concern mixed with admiration. "Goodbye, Professor," he finally whispered and headed to the door. He didn't look back when Dumbledore, in a broken voice, bade his own goodbye.

Once alone in the room, Dumbledore took a moment to compose himself, then proceeded with leaving the last memory in the Pensieve and magically shutting it. Afterwards, he wrote some notes, which he stored on the top drawer of his desk, and two short messages. He magically glued the first to the Pensieve, before putting it back on the cabinet beside the door, and put the second in his pocket.

For a minute, he sat in his chair, thinking. This year, he had spent a good part of his time away from the school, always feeling quite uneasy at the thought, but knowing he would always be able to return should an emergency occur. This time, though, he didn't know what lay ahead of him - although, judging by the last Horcrux, it was bound to be something horrible. He would be leaving the school without his protection... what if something happened during his absence?

With that in mind, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieved a parchment with the design of a big phoenix on it. He touched the phoenix with his wand and said his name; the phoenix disappeared and the Members Schedule appeared. Outside of Snape and McGonagall, three people were available at this hour: Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks and Bill Weasley.

He conjured his Patronus and instructed it to pass a message to all three of them: "I shall be leaving Hogwarts shortly, and I want you to be here, patrolling the school, during my absence."

A couple of minutes later, three Patronuses appeared in his office, all carrying promises that their masters would be there as soon as possible. Content, Dumbledore turned his attention to one of the portraits on the wall.

"Armando," he said, "would you be so kind as to inform Minerva and Filius that I would like to see them?"

The man in the picture opened his eyes. "Of course, Albus," he said and left the painting. As soon as he did, Fawkes the phoenix flew near Dumbledore. The man extended his withered hand for the bird to perch on it.

"Fawkes, my good friend," he said softly, stroking Fawkes's head. "It is time to say goodbye."

Fawkes long tail swung, rubbing gently Dumbledore's arm, and the bird started singing a beautiful, mellow song. The moment it was over, someone knocked at the door.

"Enter," Dumbledore said, hiding all emotion of his face. Fawkes returned to its golden perch behind the door.

McGonagall and Flitwick entered the room. It took Dumbledore a great deal of strength to appear composed in front of them. They had been his colleagues and friends for years - decades, actually - and here he was, knowing it was probably the last time he saw them, unable to bid them farewell.

"Minerva, Filius," he said. "I must leave the school for a few hours. I shall ask you to be patrolling the corridors during this time, in case something occurs. Nymphadora, Remus and Bill Weasley have also been informed and will be here soon."

"Sure, Albus," McGonagall said.

"Anything you need, Albus," Flitwick seconded.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said earnestly. "By the way, Minerva...?" He produced the note he had earlier put in his pocket. "Could you make sure this reaches Harry Potter?"

"Of course, Albus. Excuse me," she said and exited the room.

Flitwick followed her. "Have a safe trip," he called to Dumbledore light-heartedly, before Charming the door closed.

-End of chapter 8-