Sands of Time

Chapter 14

To say he was displeased would have been an understatement. Severus was furious with Dumbledore, or Slytherin, or whatever he was supposed to call him. And more importantly he was furious with himself. Years of being manipulated. He had known to some extent - even when Dumbledore was kind, there was always something that was expected out of him - but he had convinced himself at some point that all those manipulations were for the best. That he didn't mind. Slytherins were more used to being manipulated than most. He could have been in Azkaban after all. It could have been him sitting in a cell next to a gibbering Sirius Black. It was hard to say if the prospect of the Dementors, or an eternity spent with Black scared him more.

This last bit of intrigue galled him though. Dumbledore had been giving information away by the bucketful, but it was all useless without the proper insight. Doubtless, Potter was being given more information, but without being there to interpret it, Severus had little hope of gaining some understanding of Slytherin's plans.

Which brought him to his second dilemma: being forced to leave the room like a child who had heard enough, leaving Potter all alone. He was worried about the brat, and angry at Dumbledore for making him worry. Just why had he wanted Potter alone? And why did Potter's safety always fall into his hands?

He allowed himself a growl of frustration as he walked through the woods to his ultimate destination, cursing Voldemort's timing. The ceremony could have happened at any time this weekend, but the Dark Lord had to choose tonight. And Dumbledore had known of the meeting, which meant there was at least one other informant for Dumbledore in the Death Eater ranks.

Yet another fact to add to the growing number of revelations that had been thrown at him today. He was sure that if given enough time to think on it, he could figure out what Slytherin was planning, but that time wasn't presenting itself. All he could do was Apparate to Voldemort and hope that idiot of a boy didn't get himself killed.

*****

It was cold where Harry appeared. Cold and damp. His feet sunk a few inches into the soft forest floor and he looked around in surprise. A forest of ancient trees spread off in every direction, their dark trunks blending together in the darkness. Moss and ferns grew on the forest floor, filling the air with a sweet smell that mingled with a more pervasive scent of rotting wood. After his experiences in fourth year, the wood wasn't the place he was expecting for a Death Eater meeting.

For that matter, where were the Death Eaters? He would rather not see them at all - the trembling in his hands betrayed that - but the Portkey should have brought him directly to Snape.

It was the laughter that led him to them. He followed the noise, climbing over a rotting log and hoping that his foot didn't slip. They were sitting in two rows forming a corridor to Voldemort. Each Death Eater was seated on an ornately carved seat, though Voldemort's chair was the most decorated of all of them. Strangely, each Death Eater had his wand out and pointing up, like soldiers at attention. It was impossible to tell which one was Snape.

A figure was kneeling in front of Voldemort, cradling its arm. He or she turned to face the assembled Death Eaters and cheers rang out. A mask was already on its face, but the hood of the person's robe wasn't up and Harry could see shaggy blond hair. Dumbledore hadn't been lying when he said they were recruiting.

He had to get closer. It was hard to remember that no one could see him, especially with Voldemort gazing about the clearing like a proud parent, but he approached the group boldly, following a well-treaded path that led straight to Voldemort. His scar throbbed duly at the back of his head, but he was able to ignore it like a bad headache. A faint noise would betray him, so he was careful, but since they were all sitting, there was little chance of them bumping into him. It provided him with the perfect view and he wondered why Snape didn't use an invisibility cloak instead of risking his life playing a double agent.

Voldemort finished his proud perusal of his servants, and Harry's heart jolted as he noticed the crouched Death Eater at Voldemort's side. Peter was wearing a mask, but the silver hand and the cringing posture were easily identifiable. Harry drew his wand, but he forced himself to keep it by his side and not curse the traitor out of existence. He was here to help Snape, though how he was going to do that was beyond him.

"Create a chair and join the ranks." The red in Voldemort's eyes flashed when he spoke.

The newest Death Eater pulled up their hood, then strode to the end of the line, quite close to Harry, though not enough to make him worry, and created an elegant ebony chair. Voldemort chuckled at seeing it, and Harry was sure he was amused by the choice of chair, though he couldn't see why. The Death Eater sat down, and a silence filled the clearing.

Less than a minute later, Harry was still debating what he should do. Perhaps he would be able to tell which Death Eater was Snape by the chair? The choice was taken from him when every Death Eater turned their pale, masked faces towards him. With their wands pointed upwards as death's guards, the scene was enough to send a shiver down his spine without the added fact that they were staring directly at him. His heart started pounding madly and he saw with growing fear that even Voldemort was staring straight at him, his eyes bright.

There was only one explanation. Somehow his invisibility cloak had failed, and he found himself uttering one of Ron's harsher curses in his head. Slytherin had to have done something to it.

But still, no one said anything. The Death Eaters were ghostly silent. There was a sense of anticipation in the air though, and then a voice spoke near his back, "I am here, my Lord Voldemort."

There was someone behind -

A knee hit the small of his back. The leg becoming tangled with his own. His arms flailed, searching for anything to hold on to, but they found only air. The man behind him must have been flailing as well. He winced in pain and fear as a hand closed over the top of his head, grasping both the cloak and the hair underneath.

- him.

They crashed in a pile onto the soft forest floor. Now he knew why Snape never used an invisibility cloak. He was acutely aware of a twig digging into his leg, the great weight that was sprawled on top of him, and the breeze that was ruffling his hair. A harsh silence filled the clearing.

Then Voldemort started laughing. Harry squirmed out from under the man and ran for a gap between two of the seated Death Eaters. It hadn't occurred to anyone to use their wands yet and he hoped that would continue, but even as he reached the edge, he heard a voice lazily call out.

"Laxus."

Though his mind was racing, Harry's body collapsed into a limp heap. He held onto his wand with only the greatest of efforts, but when he tried to move beyond that, his arm flapped uselessly, accompanied by the derisive laughter of Voldemort and his servants.

"Bring him."

He was roughly lifted up and dragged up the aisle. If his muscles hadn't been so relaxed he would have started in surprise at the soft voice that spoke in his ear.

"Ravenclaw's diary," Snape whispered, then jerked hard enough at his arm to make him gasp in pain. This amused the watching Death Eaters and Dark Lord even more. His captors forced him to kneel in front of Voldemort, before their lord could demand it. Pain was spiking through his scar, but it settled down after a few moments.

Harry opened his eyes and glared hard at Voldemort, hoping it would hide the fear within them.

"What an unexpected visit. Welcome to my family once again, Harry Potter. Did you miss us?" Voldemort smiled with his thin lips and the Death Eaters laughed.

"Before I kill you, I'm curious as to how you got here. I've yet to put out announcements of a meeting's timing or location to the world at large, though that will happen someday."

Harry decided to tell the truth, or as much of it as he could manage without betraying Snape. "Dumbledore sent me."

A look of disbelief crossed Voldemort's face. "Dumbledore? That bumbling idiot who can't even manage to convince the Ministry that I am a threat?"

"He's more competent than you think." Harry didn't know why he was defending Dumbledore, but if it kept Voldemort from coming to the obvious conclusion about spying...

"Very well, Harry. Let's say Dumbledore sent you here. What did he want, that he would send his favourite champion," Harry winced at the reference to the Triwizard tournament, "right into my hands?"

The obvious answer was that Dumbledore had wanted him to be captured, but no one would believe that of kind, old Dumbledore. Except, Slytherin had done this once before, hadn't he? Visions of his last meeting with Voldemort flashed through his mind, ending as always on the dull, staring eyes of a dead Cedric.

He had waited too long. With an elegant flick of his wand, Voldemort cast a spell.

"Evomomnis." A pressure built in his stomach as wave after wave of nausea crashed together within it. His guts were churning literally. He leant forward against the grip of his captors, taking deep gasping breaths in a futile effort not to be sick. The spell was too strong, however, and the remains of his last meal were deposited on the ground. Although Voldemort had removed the spell, Harry was sick again at the sight of the blossoming puddle of vomit.

"Ravenclaw's diary," he choked out around the sour bile taste in his mouth, hoping that Snape's words would actually save him.

"Ravenclaw's diary," Voldemort repeated and Harry's hopes soared. Voldemort knew what Harry was talking about. "And what did he want with it?"

"There's something important inside it," said Harry, trying desperately to keep the doubt out of his voice. "He didn't tell me what."

"No, he never tells you what he truly wants, does he?" mused Voldemort. He turned to the only Death Eater without a chair. "Wormtail, go fetch Ravenclaw's diary. Hurry."

Wormtail jumped, fled a few feet away, then disappeared.

"And while he's gone," Voldemort's eyes glowed as he pointed his wand at Harry, "Crucio."

The pain struck like a thousand needles on his skin. It moved deeper, until his whole body was vibrating with it. Only the hands of his captors kept him from falling forward...and somehow the pain got worse. He had just enough presence of mind to hope that Wormtail hurried back.

His mind had spiralled beyond pain to a soft place where the pain was only one voice amongst many when the spell was lifted. The fog in front of his eyes faded slowly to reveal Voldemort standing looking through the diary, ignoring his captive.

Voldemort flicked through the book quickly but efficiently. The studious look on his face seemed incongruous to Harry, especially since he was used to seeing that look on Hermione's face more than on the dark wizard's.

Voldemort's searching slowed as he reached the end of the book. He sunk into his throne-like chair, still reading. Emotions flickered across his face. Shock. Dismay. Anger. And Harry knew that Voldemort had guessed some, if not all, of who Dumbledore was. The Dark Lord gave no indication of it when he looked up from the book though.

"I think it's time I paid a visit to Hogwarts. That old fool will be sure to let me in with his prize student in my grips. He'll regret ever sending you out here. Come, my friends." At the command, all the Death Eaters rose.

Harry heard a crunch near his foot, and lifted it to see a smoking potion's bottle. He kicked the other Death Eater who was holding him in the shin, amazed by the large amount of smoke that was billowing from the bottle. Snape jerked him off into the forest, running, as the cloud of smoke obscured their movements. There were shouts and random spells, but how could you aim when you couldn't see? They made good their escape into the night.