Love On Risky Ground

Love On Risky Ground

Chapter 6

Attack

Professor Dumbledore paced his study as rain fell outside his home. His arms were folded as he walked, deep in thought. Harry was ill and nobody was protecting the boy at the hospital as yet. The news that Death Eaters were planning to attack Harry in his fragile state had complicated the situation a lot more.

Mrs. Figg was still out of the country. Severus Snape had found out that Voldemort's spies had witnessed a Muggle medical vehicle transporting Harry out of Privet Drive. Severus had also found Mundungus Fletcher, who was stationed at Privet Drive, unconscious with the stench of Firewhiskey on his breath. Mundungus had lain sprawled, half invisible behind Figg's tree, with several of her cats trying to wake him up. The Headmaster was angry with the man again because he was supposed to have been guarding Harry.

He was sure that Voldemort had found out about Harry's illness first and that time was running out to save the boy. The situation was made even worse because the boy's guardians had gone home, so there was no blood protection surrounding him. Dumbledore speculated that the Dursleys would have thought that the hospital would be enough to guard him, with so many people watching him.

He was worried about Harry's welfare, becoming slightly anxious because time was precious. He flicked his dazzling blue eyes to the corner of the room where Severus stood in the dark, immersed in his own eerie silence. Dumbledore shook his head, his silver grey hair glimmering in the candlelight.

"Sir, I will go," Snape gestured. "There isn't time to inform the Order since so many are out fighting the Death Eaters in Wrexham."

Dumbledore rested his hands on his desk and sighed. "Severus, take Harry to the Headquarters. I will notify Sirius and everyone else of the situation once you leave." Dumbledore paused and looked into the eyes of the man whom he had trusted deeply for many years. "Be careful!" he added at last.

Snape moved quietly to the desk, standing opposite to the Headmaster. "We should've put somebody else other than Fletcher in charge of Privet Drive, Albus. This was a blunder!" he stated.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he observed the Potions Master. "Severus, we cannot ethically change the past. It was an unpredictable, very unfortunate circumstance which has come to pass," he said, putting an end to the subject. "Now, time is running out. This is not the perfect place to analyse this mistake."

Snape clasped his cloak shut and retrieved his wand. "I will make sure he is safe," he replied and turned sharply, running out of the room.

Dumbledore rubbed his tired eyes, his mind filled with troubled thoughts. He did not want to think of what would happen if Harry was killed. He would never forgive himself if the boy had to once again go through terrible pain and torment at the hands of Voldemort and his supporters. He stared at the ceiling, and damned himself for his mistake. Dumbledore had made mistakes in the past, but this was by far the worst. Harry was never too safe ... and this incident proved it. And now an opportunity for the Dark Lord had arisen to be rid of Harry Potter forever.

***

The sound of a soft trickle of water somewhere in the room woke Harry up, though his eyes were still heavy with sleep. The noise pounded in his ears and he turned his head a little to investigate it. The movement sent another wave of pain through his head, something he did not want. A nurse had just squeezed an intravenous drip bag, its clear liquid flowing into another tube further below. The tiny drops of liquid glistened in the soft light entering from outside the room, making them look like little beads of crystal. Harry thought they looked beautiful in his tired state.

The nurse grinned in the dim glow, seeing that he was awake. But Harry was not in the mood to smile back as his anxiety and worry come back with full strength. A horrid feeling churned in his stomach like turbulent hot water. He sighed, resting comfortably as the nurse checked his eyes with a bright light.

"If you need any help," the nurse whispered close to Harry's ear, "just press this button here." She lifted a little white control box attached to a wire and tapped a button on it gently, showing him what to do.

Harry nodded a little and the nurse smiled, touching his arm in an almost maternal way before she vanished, closing the door behind her. Harry was alone in the dark. He shifted over in his bed, his arms outspread over the side in his gloom, thinking about his future once more. He opened his mouth and tried to speak again, but it still seemed intent on doing the opposite of what his brain wanted to do. He hated himself for not being able to control it. He cringed in misery and hit the bed with a fist. The machine monitoring him took notice as his heart rate increased.

Harry calmed himself with an effort. Looking around the hospital room, he realised that his uncle and aunt were not there anymore; gone home to rest. He was sure they didn't want to bother with him any more than they had to ... Harry felt that that was the first and the last time they would ever visit him, leaving him to recover without any support.

The thought of protection had slipped his mind entirely in his tired state.

He squinted and suddenly became aware that he didn't have his glasses. He fumbled for the control and pressed the button with all the strength he could muster. The nurse quickly appeared.

"What's wrong, dear?" she soothingly asked.

Harry opened his mouth but suddenly closed it in realisation that he couldn't talk. For a second he had no idea how he was going to communicate with her, his mind blank of thought. He raised his hands towards his eyes a moment later. His thumbs and index fingers touched, shaping them into what looked like round circles and then he pressed his fingers firmly over his eyes. The nurse understood right away and giggled slightly.

"Your glasses, yes, they're on the cabinet." She walked to the other side of his bed and picked up his round spectacles, placing them into Harry's hand. The cool metal of the rims felt strange to him as he put them on and pushed them up his nose, blinking at the wonderfully clear view of the room.

"You should get some sleep now. It's two in the morning and sleep helps your body recover," she said before adding, "though you are recovering remarkably quickly."

Harry was a little surprised at her words, but nodded. He knew deep down that it must have had something to do with his magic. How else could he explain to himself that he felt much better than mere hours before? He was right awake now and when the nurse left he began looking around the room, interested in where he was sleeping now that he could see his surroundings.

There was another bed to his left, which was empty, and he then spotted the cabinet where his glasses had been laid and noticed a blue card standing upright. On its cover, it had a dog with a sad frown on its face holding out a bunch of flowers. Scribbled upon it was: Get well soon.

Harry stretched over, ignoring the pain in his head, and picked up the card, wondering who had given it to him. He exposed the inside of the card and found that it had been his aunt and uncle who had given it to him in good gesture. It felt rather peculiar reading the little message Aunt Petunia had written. He had never seen his aunt act in a way that seemed motherly. She had always despised him.

Harry almost wished Aunt Petunia was still there with him. He threw the thought away, feeling a little revolted for even thinking such a thing, since she would never change her ways. But Harry desperately needed somebody who loved him - somebody who cared for him, to comfort him, and to be there with him.

He placed the card back carefully, trying to balance it so it sat up like before. He aligned the blankets over his shoulders and closed his eyes, placing his hands on his stomach and breathing in and out in slow but long breaths.

Semiconscious crept into his mind again, drawing him away from reality and into a dream state. However, something abnormal happened. Harry felt a sudden blast of wind, hitting him as if he were outside on a windy day without a cloak on. A tremor of coldness swept over his body and the blankets on him stirred. Harry quickly returned back to consciousness. The machines around him were going haywire, uncontrolled as if something had disturbed them severely. He shot up in his confused state and saw a man standing beside his bed, cloaked and hidden, a silver slither of a serpent holding his cloak together at his neck.

Harry's stomach lurched in terror and fear. Had a Death Eater come to kill him?

He immediately tried to scream, a small sound escaping his sore throat, but the man was too fast in the shadow of the dark and he quickly cupped his hand over Harry's mouth, pinning him forcefully onto the bed. His strength was much greater than Harry's weak struggles. Harry tried to yell again, squinting his eyes shut in panic. Several thoughts and feelings ran across his mind, and the thought, was he going to die? was one of them.

Nevertheless, the man held a long finger to his mouth, turning his hooded head towards the door in alarm. Harry's eyes were wide, adrenalin running madly through his body. The machines had returned to their normal functioning; the magic that had radiated from the man's Apparition into the room had apparently caused their uncontrolled state.

Then he focused his hidden face at Harry again. "Shhh," he simply said. "Make a word and I'll stun you." He retreated to the door to look out.

Harry sat up in his bed. He was about to call for help with the control within his hand, but the strange man suddenly pulled his wand out and pointed it at Harry's face.

"Potter, don't you dare," he warned menacingly.

Harry obeyed, letting go of the control and staring at the man intensely. His voice sounded oddly familiar. The man entered the darkness of the room again and appeared on the end of his bed, continuing to mystify and frighten him. He picked up a clipboard displaying Harry's records and placed his wand onto the bed. Harry wanted to know who he was. The figure stood silent for a minute, looking at the chart and flipping the pages over.

Harry looked at the wand, sitting comfortably on the blanket. He only needed to quickly reach his hand out and snatch the wand when he realised that the tubes in him would prevent him from doing so. Harry slowly pulled the intravenous needle out of his hand, getting ready for any attack the man planned.

But the man sensed it and retrieved his wand. He silkily moved towards Harry, who now sat in complete despair and shock, knowing his life was about to abruptly come to an end. "Must you always create trouble for yourself?" he bitterly inquired, gritting his teeth, his wand inches from Harry's face.

Then the cloaked figure stopped and pulled his hood back slowly. His long ugly nose and greasy hair reflected the soft glow outside Harry's room.

Harry's jaw dropped. It was Professor Snape. Again he tried to say his name but no sound was produced except for a frustrated mumble he did not wish the hated professor to hear.

"Don't try to say anything, Potter, just rest your head for now, while I figure out a way to get you out safely without interfering with all the staff," Snape replied, coolly rubbing his chin. "We cannot use a Portkey in here, because it is much too powerful in a Muggle environment like a hospital. I had enough trouble using a Confundus Charm on this ward."

Harry had a bemused expression on his face as he shook his head in wonder, seeking answers from the professor as he continued removing the wires and tubes from his body. The machines went wild and one of the lines become straight, declaring that Harry was dead.

Snape produced a small bottle and mixed its contents into a glass with water, then shoved it into Harry's hands. "Drink it. It will make you feel better."

However, Harry didn't want to drink it until the Professor answered at least one of his silent questions. Snape became a little anxious to get a move on. Harry felt the Slytherin's aura of defeat rise around him.

"The staff in this ward will not know you are missing for awhile," Snape said, without looking him in the eye. "Dumbledore wants you out of here and into safety quickly."

Harry furrowed his brow as the professor took out a cloak from his inner robe and pressed it onto Harry's chest.

"The Dark Lord knows you're here, and he's sending a Death Eater to kill you sometime tonight, since it is too risky for him to do it himself at this time."

Harry gasped at the situation he had found himself in. He had no protection; his own wand and things were still at the Dursleys. Snape grasped Harry's upper arm and turned him towards him. Harry wasn't sure what the professor was up to, until he felt Snape wrapping a cloak over his shoulders and fastening it shut. With a sharp action, he knelt beside Harry and whispered a charm. Suddenly, out of thin air, a pair of trainers popped onto the ground and the boy slipped them onto his bare feet.

After placing a Disillusionment Charm on Harry to make sure that no one noticed he was gone, the professor took the opportunity to walk out stealthily. Snape strode out of the room, holding onto Harry's wrist, confident that none of the nurses ahead would see them.

After walking a few steps, Harry's head suddenly throbbed in pain. Snape backed him and himself against the wall in the darkness, where the light could not penetrate their hidden forms, watching the nurses at their desk.

He stared without a word; Harry looked at his concentrated face as he did his job with sleekness. Professor Snape was a spy for Dumbledore, meeting with the most unlikely of people and seeking information that the dark side held secret. Harry still wasn't convinced that Snape was truly on the good side, yet. But he guessed that this was one of those times where the information passed was of great emergency, and Snape was obviously doing something more than just smirking at Harry's misfortune.

Snape's lip curled and his nostrils flared with determination. "When you've reached safety, I shall try and make a potion to cure your speech deficiency," he said calmly.

Harry's heart leapt with joy, and he felt a smile inch his way across his mouth, but Snape hadn't finished speaking, yet.

"However, don't smile Potter! There isn't a potion known to wizards that can help with your condition. So I may never discover one."

Harry's smile turned into a frown. In the back of his mind he had wondered whether his speech would return with a potion, but his last hope was now destroyed. Now he was really facing the prospect of never being able to do proper magic again.

Snape took long strides, which were too much for Harry to keep up with. Outside the ward, he almost collapsed under the hot pressure of pain and light-headedness; he could feel his own heartbeat hammering within his chest.

Every now and then a person would pass by and Harry would be suddenly hurled into a dark silent room, until it was all clear. Harry thought it would be a strange sight for a Muggle to witness: two people, walking with hooded cloaks as slowly as possible against the wall.

Snape zigzagged all over the hospital, trying to confuse any tracks the Death Eaters might use to find them. They trotted on into a disused part of the hospital where the wards had been closed down. The shiny smooth floor beneath them echoed their footsteps, while their black cloaks glided, making them look as if they were walking on still water.

Harry wished the professor would loosen his grip; he was beginning to feel sharp prickles in his fingers. It wasn't as if he couldn't manage on his own and he hated the fact Snape was treating him like a little child. Then again, Snape hated him anyway, and would jump at any small opportunity to make things more difficult for him.

The lights overhead dimmed threateningly and Snape stopped for a moment, training his wand at the space in front of him. "Quickly now," he said curtly, pulling Harry sharply.

Suddenly, Harry heard a pop behind him and the bright lights overhead flickered again. Snape turned around, whirling Harry painfully behind him. Harry almost fell, but he clutched onto the professor's robes, preventing himself from falling. Snape poised out his wand in duelling mode. Harry poked his head around, needing to know who was trying to kill him.

"Snape, you traitor!" the masked man coldly hissed from under his hood, his wand pointed towards the Potions Master, itching to kill.

Snape didn't utter a word, moving back and urging Harry to step backward also. "Walden Macnair, nobody can miss your slimy voice."

Macnair pressed on, tilting his head in order to see where Potter was.

"The boy - Snape - the Dark Lord will have him in the end. I can see his faint outline." Then he pointed his wand at Snape. "Why not give him to me and the Dark Lord will not kill you. He will welcome you back ... we shall be the brothers of the Mark once again, as Lucius thinks."

Professor Snape stopped for a moment, hesitating. He lowered his wand a little and Harry could sense that he was contemplating the thought of returning to the Dark Side of magic, to become a Death Eater again.

"Let me kill him, Severus!" Macnair cooed. "Our Lord has bestowed me the very rare honour of killing one of his most meddlesome nemeses. Such a rare privilege, don't you think?"

"The Muggles will notice," Snape whispered.

Macnair raised an eyebrow. "I've Confunded the entire hospital. Perhaps my magic may have killed some of the sick vermin within. Very well, I shall have to kill you first. My master will be pleased at a double murder," Macnair said softly, but coldly, his rather horrible teeth baring menacingly. "Minuo," he shouted. A jet of red light sizzled towards Snape, but the teacher reacted and ducked, pulling Harry down as well. Instantly the lights in the corridor went out and they were bathed in darkness.

Snape mumbled a spell under his breath, which Harry recognised as a night vision charm. He turned around and pointed the wand at Harry. Harry thought for an extremely wild second that Snape was going to kill him, but the exact opposite occurred. "Tecumtecorp," he whispered. A soft golden glitter swirled around Harry, giving him limited protection from all curses, except for the Unforgivables. Then he muttered another spell at Harry. "I've put an anti-locating charm on you, just in case the unfortunate occurs," Snape whispered hastily. "Now, Potter ... stay out of my way," he said pushing Harry against the wall.

"Abscindo Venas!" Macnair yelled out of the darkness.

Snape struck his wand arm out and cursed back, missing the blood red curse. "Calcitro!"

Macnair was hit; Harry heard a thud as he hit the wall. However, he wasn't going to give up easily. "Contricio Grietus," he croaked as he stood up.

Snape was not so lucky this time. He was flung onto the ground by an invisible force, wheezing for breath as pain shook his entire body. Snape lay on the ground, wincing as he sucked in a breath with great difficulty.

Harry watched in horror, hoping that Snape was all right.

"Well, look at you now," Macnair sneered and with a flick of his hand, Snape's wand was abruptly detached from his grip was flung towards the Death Eater.

But Snape still had strength left and he pushed himself up, lifting his legs into the air before knocking Macnair onto the floor with huge force. Macnair propped up with his wand, pain etched on his face. "Tranverberati," he shouted as Snape turned his back to him in hope of reaching for his wand.

The curse dazzled Harry's eyes and it struck its mark, hitting Snape in his back like an invisible sword as he picked his wand up. Snape yelled and arched his back in surprise, falling to the ground. Blood started to spread on the floor like a flood. He turned around with difficulty, facing Macnair as he lifted his wand to kill him. "Av-"

Harry was not going to let the Death Eater kill Snape; he ran and flung his entire weight onto Macnair, digging his nails into his eyes in an attempt to stop him from completing the curse. Macnair yelled in pain. However, with a sharp spin, he made Harry release his grip and the boy fell to the ground, hitting his head. Pain worse than the Cruciatus Curse filled his head, but Harry was lucky; he hadn't hit the wound in his side.

Forgetting about Snape and that his wand lay dangerously close to him, Macnair turned towards Harry, tapping his head to rid himself of the charm that made the illusion that Harry wasn't there. The Death Eater smirked at this sight, raised his wand at Harry and--

"Sublevatus," Snape croaked in pain. A blinding flash of light lit up the corridor.

Harry saw Macnair fall. Little blue electric streaks flowed to the floor around him. Harry could feel the hair on his arms rising up as if he were standing amidst an electrical storm.

With wide frightened eyes, Harry turned to the professor. The sight made him gag with terror.

Snape lay limp, his breathing shallow. Harry crawled towards him and saw blood soaking into the teacher's robes. Harry's hands were stained with it as he knelt beside Snape, who stared at the ceiling with his dying eyes. He became so still that Harry was certain he had died when suddenly the professor grabbed Harry's cloak by the neck, and pulled him down until their noses were nearly touching.

"Take my wand, Potter. You're not safe here - there are more Death Eaters."

Snape loosened his grip. His hand fell away from Harry and he closed his eyes. A last ghostly breath escaped his lips.

Snape was dead....

Harry looked on, dumbfounded and stunned at all that had happened. Silently, with trembling hands, he took hold of the professor's wand and checked Macnair's pulse. They were both dead.

Harry stood up, the pain in his head making him stumble. The next second the lights flickered on and it blinded Harry for an instant. He had to get out of the hospital. He didn't know where, but all he knew was that he needed to get away from the Death Eaters.