Stay Free

Chapter 11: Invasion of the Mind

Severus groaned in pain once more as the Cruciatus Curse was lifted off him, the Dark Lord cackling cruelly in the background. He hung limply on the chains that bound him to the stone wall of the dungeon, breathing heavily and trembling.

"My Lord, I beg for your forgiveness," Severus gasped, shaking his head to get rid of the sweat.

"Tell me why," the Dark Lord hissed. "Tell me why you began teaching Potter Occlumency again. Tell me!"

"I--I was only acting on Dumbledore's orders, my Lord," Severus wheezed. "It brought me closer to him, I have been able to provide more information to you--"

"Yes," the Dark Lord interrupted, "yes, you have."

Severus swallowed, bringing up his lingering power to Occlude his mind against the Dark Lord's constant prodding. You're safe...you'll be fine...Breathe in, breathe out...

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord bellowed.

The sharp pain of the curse hit Severus before his mind could process it. Pure agony, this was, the knives digging deep into him as he struggled and squirmed. He tried desperately to get away from it, get away from the pain--

It was gone, and the Dark Lord was chuckling.

"My...Lord," Severus mumbled, spitting out a broken tooth onto the dungeon floor. "I beg for your forgiveness..."

"You always were my favourite for the Cruciatus Curse," the Dark Lord mused, rubbing his lip with an index finger. "You were the only one who could actually make sense after I put it on you...such a shame. I won't kill you; you're much too valuable to me. But, I believe you've had enough for tonight, Severus."

The Dark Lord slipped his wand back into his robes. He walked closer to Severus, tilting his chin up to get a better look. He then leaned very close, so that their faces were almost touching. "Don't you ever forget, Severus," he breathed, "I'm still, and always be, your Master. And I choose whether you live or not."

He turned on his heel and left the room, his robes billowing behind him.

Severus waited until he could hear no more footsteps echoing, and then began to yank at the chains. It did nothing but break the skin of his wrists even more, causing him to yelp in pain as the blood trickled down his forearm.

He sighed heavily, leaning his head against the stone and closing his eyes. Someone would notice that he had not come back...

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning feeling restless and frightened. He had just had a vivid dream of himself cursing a man chained to a wall. Though he had used the Cruciatus Curse on him many times, the man never showed any emotion, except for a yell every once in awhile. Harry shivered. He hadn't been able to see the man's face, and had no idea who he was. But he had awoke with his scar burning enough that it made his eyes water.

Hoping that it had just been a bad dream, Harry fetched his bag from under his bed and stood up, running a hand anxiously through his hair. Judging by the sun outside and the fact that Ron was snoring loudly, it was still early in the morning.

Harry planned to head downstairs to the front corridor to wait for Dumbledore to arrive and pick him up, but instead found himself facing a silver beard and twinkling blue eyes when he opened the door.

"Hello, Harry," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said through gritted teeth. You left me at Privet Drive, and now you're taking me away from my friends...

"I was just about to step inside and wake you up. I see I didn't have to...Did you sleep well?"

Harry shrugged. Keep the anger inside... "Okay, I suppose. A couple bad dreams, but nothing too nerve-wracking."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Let's go."

"I can't stay longer?" Harry asked, biting his lip. "I want to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione--"

"There is no time," Dumbledore interrupted. "We must leave now." He turned around with a swish of his cloak, and began walking. Harry hurried after him.

"Professor, what about Hedwig?" Harry questioned. They had used one of the smaller rooms for the owls, and they had just passed it. "Should I go back and get her?"

"She will fly to Hogwarts on her own," said Dumbledore. "By the way, we'll be travelling to Hogwarts on thestrals."

"Why not a Portkey, or Apparating?"

"Cornelius won't allow me to make Portkeys unless I tell him exactly where I'm coming from, and he cannot know about Grimmauld Place. As for Apparition, Hogwarts is much too far away. I don't want to have you splinched."

"Can you see them?" inquired Harry curiously. He was forgetting that he was supposed to be angry with Dumbledore. After all, he supposed, the man was trying to do the best he could to help Harry...He was doing a crap job of it, Harry noted, but at least he was trying. "The thestrals, I mean."

"Yes," Dumbledore answered quietly, ducking to avoid colliding with a house elf's head. "I have seen much death, and participated in it as well."

"You've killed someone?" Harry blurted out.

"I was an Auror before I became Headmaster of Hogwarts, Harry. It was back before they had laws restricting an Auror's power, and we were taught to kill our targets, not stun them." The light shining from the nearest window hit Dumbledore's face, illuminating the deep lines etched into his face. "And there was Grindelwald."

Dumbledore strode increasingly swifter through the house, so that Harry had to jog to keep up. "I read on your Famous Witches and Wizard Card that you defeated him in 1945."

"I did." Instead of going to the front door, Dumbledore began walking down the stone steps into the kitchen. "He attacked the school in hopes of recruiting more to his troops--it had worked in Ireland, he had a whole school worth of witches and wizards at his command." He pushed open the heavy door, and held it open for Harry. "However, it did not work so well for him at Hogwarts. The centaurs helped us, as did the students."

Dumbledore walked into the pantry. Harry stared after him, feeling confused.

"Er--Professor, are you hungry or something?"

"Secret door. Hurry along, now." Dumbledore beckoned him forward with his hand, and Harry followed him, squeezing between the shelves that were overflowed with food. "While everyone else pushed his followers away from Hogwarts, I fought him. He broke my nose,"--Dumbledore touched his crooked nose with a faint smile--"but I managed to defeat him."

"When you say defeat," Harry said slowly, "do you mean you handed him over to the Aurors, or did you--did you--"

"I killed him," Dumbledore answered as he placed his hand upon a loaf of bread wedged between two shelves. Harry thought about Dumbledore killing someone for the pure sake of doing so, and shivered.

Once Dumbledore took his hand off the bread, there was a loud creak from above their heads. Harry looked up, and ducked as a swinging piece of metal nearly hit him in the face. He straightened himself up, and saw a ladder slowly moving down towards them through the opening in the ceiling.

"Up you go," Dumbledore said, nodding his head to the ladder.

Harry stepped onto the ladder, reaching a hand up to grasp the nearest rung. He pulled himself up, and, as he continued to climb, realised that the space he was in was growing smaller and smaller, forcing him to become very claustrophobic.

"Professor, where does this ladder lead?" Harry called down the small tunnel.

"Straight into the backyard," came Dumbledore's answer from below him. "There is no way to reach it--unless I do it, of course--from the outside world. The only way is up the ladder."

"I take it you didn't want us to fly off on a thestral in the middle of the day, where people could see us?" asked Harry.

"Of course. Not only would it be odd for Muggles to see people climbing onto invisible horses, it is more likely for someone to attack in an open space. We'll be wearing Invisibility Cloaks--don't worry, I've got a spare for you, I'm sure you don't want to lose your father's--and I shall charm them so they won't fly off into the wind."

As Dumbledore finished talking, Harry's head hit something very hard. "Ouch!" he exclaimed, a hand leaping up to squeeze the bruised area. His other kept a firm grip on the ladder. "A warning would have been nice..."

"Feel around for a square button," said Dumbledore impatiently. Harry quickly placed his free hand on the metal above him, searching. His fingers found it, and he pushed.

As though someone was ripping the top off like a plaster, Harry was exposed to the light streaming into the tunnel. He blinked rapidly as he climbed out, rubbing his eyes and touching the bruise on his temple.

The thestrals were eating a cow carcass beside a maple tree, ripping the flesh away from the bones. They unfolded their black, leathery wings from their sides when they saw Dumbledore approach them, their great white eyes staring unblinkingly.

One of them trotted over to Harry. He hesitantly reached out a hand to touch the silky mane. It didn't object, and he stroked the shining neck as it tossed its reptilian head.

"His name is Helvetica," said Dumbledore, already on the back of the other thestral. He was rummaging through his robes as he spoke. "He's the one you rode to the Department of Mysteries last June."

"Well," Harry said, looking at the thestral with interest, "I suppose we meet again. Hello--er--Helvetica."

He looked around from something he could stand on so he could get onto the thestral. There wasn't anything he could use, unless he wanted to climb the tree, keep Helvetica underneath a branch, and jump onto his back. "Er--Professor--?"

Dumbledore whistled sharply. Helvetica sank to his knees, his bat-like wings folding to his bony sides. Harry swung one leg over the thestrals back, and nearly unseated himself as Helvetica straightened himself back up. He took a tighter hold on his mane.

"Here's the Invisibility Cloak," said Dumbledore, pulling a silvery material from his inside pocket and tossing it to Harry, who caught it with his free hand. He pulled it around his body, letting out a small cry of surprise as it immediately fastened itself to his clothing as though stapled on. "Ready?" Harry nodded, and Dumbledore whirled his own around himself. He disappeared. "Off to Hogwarts!"

The wings extended, Helvetica crouched, and then suddenly shot off into the air. Harry squeezed his knees around the thestral's body and gripped the mane tightly, praying he wouldn't fall off. Cool air slapped his face, and he found himself smiling. It felt good to be outside.

They flew through the air for what seemed like hours. Harry could see the faint outline of buildings, cars, and people hundreds of miles below him, some only little dots against smudges of green and grey.

Suddenly, Helvetica's head was pointing downward and Harry was sliding forward a couple of inches. He could see the Hogwarts castle in the near distance. The air slapped his face, this was more than a roller-coaster ride, and it was frightening but memorable all at once--

The thestral landed gracefully on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, Harry sliding off his back uncomfortably. He yanked the Invisibility Cloak off his back and handing it to Dumbledore, his legs shaking from being seated for so long.

Dumbledore had already landed, tucking the Cloak into his robes. He patted his thestral's back lightly, and it trotted back into the forest. Helvetica glanced after the other thestral, nudged his head into Harry's shoulder, and walked into the forest, its wings folding back.

"Where will I be sleeping?" Harry asked as Dumbledore began striding up the hill to Hogwarts. "Gryffindor Tower?"

"It's still being prepared for the students," answered Dumbledore, "so, no, not Gryffindor Tower. There is, however, an extra bedroom for guests in the library. Have you seen the portrait of the Founders, just beside the door?"

Harry nodded. "Is that the entrance?"

"Yes. The password is 'phoenix tears'."

"All right."

They had reached the doors. Dumbledore pulled them open, and gestured for Harry to step inside. "I have to go take care of some business, Harry, so go and settle yourself into your rooms. Meals will be at the usual times, but you can always go down to the kitchens if you're hungry." His eyes twinkled as they walked up the staircase. "I'm sure you know where they are located."

"Well, yes," admitted Harry, smiling. "I know where they are."

They stopped at the library. "Good day, Harry."

Dumbledore strode away in the direction of his office. Harry pushed open the library doors and headed to the portrait of the Founders. He stopped in front of it, examining closely. It was made before Movement Charms, so the pictures did not speak nor move.

Godric Gryffindor stood tall and proud. He was the Prince Charming of years ago with wavy blonde hair and dark blue eyes, wand tucked in his belt, along with the Sword of Gryffindor. His right hand was on the shoulder of Rowena Ravenclaw, who sat in a high-backed chair in front of him. She had silky, dark brown hair that fell to her waist, with deep green eyes. She wore extravagant blue robes, decorated with silver stars stitched across her breasts. She held a wand held in her right hand, and turquoise sparks flew from the end. Her left hand was holding Helga Hufflepuff's, who was sitting on a chair like hers.

Helga wore loose-fitting yellow robes that matched the colour of her hair, which was cut at the base of her neck. She had blue eyes like Godric, but they were lighter, and shined. She, too, had her wand in her belt. One of her hands held Salazar Slytherin's, who had his left hand on her shoulder; the same way Godric and Rowena were positioned. Salazar towered over Godric, looking powerful and strong. He had thick, shoulder-length black hair, with equally dark eyes. He wore black robes, with embroidered snakes that wrapped around his arms and waist. There was a real snake--a small green one--perched on his shoulder, holding his wand in its fangs. His right hand clutched Godric Gryffindor's, and they held their intertwined fingers high in the air.

Whoever painted the portrait wanted to show that all four Founders were all connected, Harry realised. Godric held Rowena's hand, which held Helga's, who held Salazar's, who held Godric's. They all looked happy, with bright eyes and shining faces. All four of them must have been such good friends, Harry mused, at least until Salazar wanted only purebloods to be able to attend Hogwarts. When he couldn't get his way, he left. That must have shaken all of their friendships.

"Phoenix tears," said Harry dully. The portrait swung open, revealing a small, dark corridor. He stepped over the small platform that the portrait fitted into, and walked down the passage.

It opened up into a comfortable looking room, decorated in red and gold (Gryffindor colours, Harry thought with a smile). There was a four-poster bed, not unlike the one is his dormitory. Two armchairs were placed in front of a fireplace, which already had flames burning inside. Tapestries of Greek myths decorated the walls. An antique chessboard was between the armchairs, the black and white pieces carved out of wood by someone with skill (or good spell work). The large rectangular window beside the bed gave a view of the Quidditch pitch.

Harry opened his bag on the bed, taking out its contents. After he pulled out Sirius's letters, the box from his parents' house, and his books for next year that Remus had gotten him, Harry realised he had no clothes. All he had was the clothes he was wearing. Uncle Vernon had burned all his robes and cloaks.

He started to walk towards the portrait hole, so he could go to Dumbledore's office and ask to travel down to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade to buy some more robes. But, suddenly, his scar exploded with pain, and he fell to his knees, his fingertips pressed into his forehead in a feeble attempt to make the pain stop--

Please, anything to make it stop--

"Had enough?" Harry hissed, twirling a wand in unusually long, white fingers. He walked a step forward gracefully on stone floor; it looked as though he was in a dungeon. "Or must I hurt you again?"

"Master, I would do anything to regain your trust in me," gasped the man who hung limply on the chains. A dark trickle of blood moved slowly down the side of his face.

"If that is so, I shall start again. Now, for a little light..." Harry pointed his wand at the torch on the wall a short distance away from himself.

"Incendio!" It burst into flame, illuminating the man, who was looking weary.

Harry stared. "Professor Snape?"

* * *

"Incendio!"

Severus flinched as the flames flickered a bit too close for comfort. He sank into the wall, preparing for more torture. But the Dark Lord froze, his wand in midair.

"Professor Snape?"

The high, cold voice sounded surprised and frightened. Severus looked at him nervously.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Are you all right?" the Dark Lord exclaimed.

Something is going wrong. "Erm...Master, are you feeling all right?"

"Professor, it's me! Harry! Tell me where you are--quick!"

Severus stared. "Potter? What do you mean, it's you?"

The Dark Lord suddenly let out a shout, sinking to his knees and clutching his forehead. "Harry Potter!" he growled, frantically scratching at his head. "Get--out--of--my--mind!"

There were a few minutes of time in which Severus watched with a mixture of fear and hope. The Dark Lord continued to lie on the floor, shaking and having an internal battle with Potter's mind.

"ARGH!"

The Dark Lord jumped back up. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, sweat glistening his pale face. There was a satisfied glint in his eyes. Severus could have sworn he saw a faint outline of a scar on his forehead in the shape of a bolt of lightening. The Dark Lord turned to look straight into his eyes, and the scar was gone.

"Master, are you feeling all right?" Severus repeated, keeping his eyes on his feet, giving himself an advantage in Legilimency. He didn't want the Dark Lord to sense the hope he had felt.

"Yes--Yes, of course," the Dark Lord snapped. "Now--back to your punishment."

The Dark Lord raised his wand once more, and waved it carefully. An enormous whip emerged from the end, dark and on fire. The flames wrapped around the whip, the light making the Dark Lord look completely mad.

The Dark Lord lifted his left hand--which was clenched into a fist--and opened it, extending his fingers sharply. Severus choked, and felt his body twist around to expose his back to the Dark Lord. The chains dug into his flesh more deeply at the awkward position, but he knew better than to whine about it.

"I hope you will enjoy this, Severus," the Dark Lord growled. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw him lift his wand. He closed his eyes, bracing himself to the pain--

But it didn't come. The whip was mere inches away from his back. He could feel the flames licking his sore flesh. Severus rolled his eyes as far back as they would go to get a closer look. The Dark Lord was gritting his teeth, holding his wand with a shaking hand and trying to force the whip down onto Severus's back. There was a strange glimmer in his eye.

"Professor, tell me where you are," the Dark Lord urged. "Tell me, I can't hold him off forever--"

Severus paused. He knew where he was, but he was afraid; Potter could be controlling the Dark Lord, but if he was, the Dark Lord was still in there somewhere, and if he knew that Severus had told Harry, he would become angrier than he already was--

"Professor!" the Dark Lord (aka Potter) persisted. "Hurry!"

Severus closed his eyes. "Tom Marvolo Riddle," he said quietly.

"What are you talking about? Professor, he's fighting--"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Severus repeated. "The original."

The Dark Lord's face twisted into an expression of confusion. "What the hell are you talking about? Professor--!"

"My office."

"What about your office?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. The original. My office."

"ARRRGH!"

The whip came down onto his back. Severus let out a long, shrill scream; the whip broke his flesh, and it began to burn.

"What were you saying to the boy, Severus?" bellowed the Dark Lord. "What was that nonsense?"

Severus groaned. He let his eyes roll back into his head again, allowing his body to fall limp. He focused all his remaining strength on Occlumency, putting up an illusion of illness of the mind.

The Dark Lord snorted. "I thought you were much stronger than this, Severus. I suppose all the Cruciatus has gone to your mind...Let's hope you won't have any lasting effects...You're quite a nice addition to my followers, Severus...Though you are not able to be trusted at times, I cannot afford to lose you."

He left with a swish of his robes, angrily shutting the door behind him. Severus let out the breath he had been holding, and waited.

* * *

Harry was flung backwards against the wall. As soon as he felt his body hit the ground, he leapt up, rubbing sore muscles and a prickling scar. The images sprinted through his mind; Snape, chained to a wall, looking wounded and ill; long-fingered hands holding a wand; the cruel whip, set aflame.

He leaned his head against the closed portrait hole, frantically thinking.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. The original. My office.

It doesn't make any sense!

"Oh, where's Ron and Hermione when I need them?" Harry groaned. "Why couldn't they have come along with me back to Hogwarts..."

He took his head off the wall, and closed his eyes. "All right, Harry. Let's see what the Boy-Who-Lived can think up. All right...Snape must have been speaking in code, so Voldemort wouldn't know what he was talking about...Tom Marvolo Riddle. That's Voldemort's anagram. The original...he said that after he said Voldemort's anagram...So, the original Voldemort? Salazar Slytherin? No, that's not right..."

He stood and pondered that thought for a few minutes, until the right answer suddenly slammed into his brain. "The original Voldemort--of course! Voldemort's father! He named his son after himself--the original! That explains the Tom Marvolo Riddle...

"All right. So far, I've got Voldemort's father. Doesn't make a bit of sense..." Harry recalled the last thing Snape had said. "'My office.' What's that supposed to mean? Am I to go to his office and find out where he is from there?"

Maybe you should tell Dumbledore, said the little voice in Harry's head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione's. Dumbledore could tell you whether it's real or not.

Dumbledore will just tell me to stop worrying, and that it was probably just another plant by Voldemort so he can lure me somewhere else, Harry reminded himself. He's never any help, and neither will any of the teachers...I guess I'll have to do this myself...

Harry went back to his bag and took out the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map. He took his wand out of his pocket, tapped the map, and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

As the names and building plans of Hogwarts spread across the map like spider webs, Harry pulled the cloak around his body and flipped the hood over his head. He pushed open the portrait hole and started walking down to the dungeons.

Judging by the map, most of the professors didn't spend their summers at Hogwarts, Harry noticed. Professor McGonagall, Trelawney, and Flitwick were in their offices (and Dumbledore, of course). Mrs. Norris and Peeves were still around, and Filch--

Harry stopped suddenly, clutching the map close to his chest. Argus Filch was standing inches away from him, looking as ugly and annoyed as ever. Harry held his breath.

"Students'll be arriving soon," Filch growled to himself. Mrs. Norris came from around the corner, meowing and glaring at Harry's invisible form. She rubbed against Filch's ankles, and he picked her up. "Best time of the year is when there are no students...Schools shouldn't even bother with having students..."

He continued walking down the corridor, muttering to himself and rubbing Mrs. Norris's ears. Harry let out the breath he had been holding, and started jogging down the stairs.

Harry made his way down to the dungeons, and began walking to Snape's office. He reached it, took the doorknob his hand, hesitated, but pushed it open.

Harry had been in Snape's office a couple of times, for his Occlumency lessons and detentions. There were potion vials on the shelves along the walls, filled with slimy things suspended in grimy water. The desk in the centre of the room had a small stack of parchment, a broken quill, and a half-empty inkbottle. There was also a door off in the corner between two shelves that Harry had never noticed before. He decided that it must be the entrance to Snape's private rooms.

Harry stuffed the map into his pocket, but kept the cloak on just in case. He hesitated again, but walked to the door and pushed it open. He was surprised that it was unlocked (and unwarded), but shut the door behind him and looked around.

At the far end of the room, an open door revealed a four-poster bed, like in all the rooms in Hogwarts. It was much larger, and painted black. The hangings were in Slytherin colours, green and silver. Harry didn't feel like entering Snape's bedroom, and left that room in the back of his mind. In the main room, a small desk full of parchment, quills, and ink was in the corner. A fireplace, surrounded by furniture and a few tables, had a fire burning cheerfully. Harry supposed that the house-elves kept fires burning all the time, even if people weren't in the room. There was a door beside it, opened enough for Harry to see a bathroom. The other door revealed a simple kitchen and dining room. Peering through the doorway, he saw another door leading off to what looked like a lab. It must be where Snape made his potions, Harry decided.

Continuing his search of the main room, Harry noted that all the walls were lined with bookcases, full to their extent. He looked over them curiously. It looked as though Snape had the entire Hogwarts library in his rooms, as Harry recognized many of them. Nearly all were Potions text, though there were a few describing other forms of magic. A few Harry identified as ones he had seen in the Black library and the Restricted Section, obviously of Dark origin. As Harry moved down the lines of bookcases, he was surprised to see more and more Muggles literature, mostly plays. He recognized Shakespeare, but that was the extent of his knowledge. There were a high number of books placed in glass cases. Harry could hear the humming of the wards, and decided not to open the cases.

Harry turned away from the bookcases, feeling like he was intruding, and began looking for clues that would tell him where Voldemort was holding Snape. He headed to the desk, and looked over the parchment. There were potion ingredients scribbled on a couple, as well as a data table that made no sense to Harry. He noticed that there were two small drawers under the desk, and opened one.

Sitting on a folded plaid shirt (plaid? Snape wore plaid? Harry thought) was a necklace. It was a fine silver chain, with a small, simple figurine hanging from the centre. Harry leaned closer to see what it was, and realised it was a small flower made of glass.

"Wow," he whispered. "It's beautiful..." He reached out a hand to get a better look, touching a finger to the flower.

It suddenly expanded, as though it was a mouth opening, and clamped down on his finger. Harry let out a yelp, and yanked his hand away. The flower continued to grip down tighter, and a small droplet of blood fell. He flung his hand into the air, and the necklace flew off and landed back onto the shirt.

Breathing heavily, Harry shut the drawer quickly. "Biting necklace," he muttered. "Who the hell would have thought of that...?"

Then he remembered back to the beginning of July, when Snape had first arrived. Aunt Petunia had said that Snape bought Lily a necklace that bit everyone but Lily...if that was so, what was it doing in Snape's room?

She must have given it back, Harry realised. But why?

He shook his head. It was too much to think about, not to mention intruding on Snape's private affairs. But the second drawer was simply begging to be opened...

Harry gave in, and opened the drawer. There were a couple of envelopes with yellowed parchment poking out the tops; a small, black box the size of Harry's palm; a package, wrapped in brown paper and the size of a Muggle notebook; and lastly, a white piece of paper with something written across it in fine script.

Harry picked up the piece of paper, frowning. The handwriting looked strangely familiar...

October 25th, 1978

Dear Severus,

I'm sending you this letter through Muggle post, so I hope you receive it soon. Please, check to be sure that it wasn't intercepted; with this Voldemort fellow running around, nothing is safe.

Severus, I need to see you. Ever since that incident with Avery in our seventh year, I have missed you terribly. Yes, I do love James--

Harry ripped his eyes away from the letter, forcing himself not to look. It was his mother writing to Snape, and obviously after school. He shouldn't be reading this...

--but I care for you as much as I care for him. I wonder what would have happened if I had chose to stay with you, to remain a secret. It is something I think about everyday.

Oh, Severus, I miss you so much. Please, come visit me on the 31st; James will be out of town (he's speaking with Dumbledore that night) and I need to see you. I haven't seen you since Graduation Day. Please, we'll just have dinner and talk. I still care about you, Severus, and it's beginning to get hard to let you go.

Love,

Lily

Harry dropped the letter back into the drawer as though it were on fire. His mother obviously loved Snape as much as she had loved James. And if Snape had gone to visit his mother, that had been the night Mark Evans had been conceived...He shivered. He did not want to picture his mother and Snape...ugh. That image needed to stay very far back in his mind.

Harry looked at the items he had taken out of the drawer. Dare he look at them? They were obviously things from Snape's past with Lily...But perhaps there was something in there that could help Harry find out where Snape was being held...

Giving in to his curiosity, Harry opened on the yellowed parchments.

Lily. Lily, can you see this?

I can. Is that you, Severus?

Of course it is. Who else do you think has your charmed parchment?

Right. Sorry.

You're in History of Magic now, right?

Yes. I don't know why I even bothered to take the N.E.W.T class.

Because you aced the O.W.L?

I suppose so. You're in the Advanced Potions now, right?

Yeah. I already finished, so the professor just told me to do some homework until the end of class.

You finished already?

Of course. Listen, can you meet me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom tonight?

Tsk, tsk Severus...You can't expect Head Girl to break rules, can you?

Would you like it I come to your room instead?

Please do. I prefer shagging in a bed rather than an old bathroom.

I know, but there's less a chance of getting caught...One of your friends nearly walked into us, remember?

I'll change the password.

To what? I've got to know.

I'll make it "Slytherins are sexy". How's that?

You're making me blush.

No one will be able to guess it. So, is it a date?

Yes. See you tonight.

I love you.

Love you, too.

The written conversation fell from Harry's hands. He shouldn't be reading this. He was supposed to be finding information on where Snape could be held prisoner, not reading his private letters from more than twenty years ago. Not to mention Snape and Lily were discussing sex...Harry cringed at the thought.

Harry picked up the small box, gently opening it with shaking hands. I shouldn't be looking at these things...He gasped audibly, the sound bouncing in the silent room.

A ring. Bloody hell, there was a ring.

Not even bothering to look at it closer, Harry shut it quickly and slammed it back into the drawer, shoving it closed. He realised he was breathing heavily, his heart racing. I shouldn't have seen that. I really shouldn't have seen that.

Was the ring meant for Lily? It was in a drawer that was full of things related to Lily. But if the ring had been meant for Lily...Snape had proposed? No...He certainly would have told that part of the story when telling it to Harry...

I'll just forget all about it, Harry decided, thoroughly shaken. I didn't see a ring that was probably made for my mother. I didn't read any letters about sex. I didn't see anything. Back to the thing with Snape being held prisoner, Harry.

"Let's think, Harry," he told himself, pacing back and forth across the floor, trying not to look at the desk. "So far, we know that it's something to do with Voldemort's father and Snape's office. How are they connected...?"

He pondered for a moment, came up with nothing, and continued to talk to himself aloud. "What do we know about Voldemort's father...He was a Muggle, abandoned Voldemort's mother when he found out she was a witch, went back to live with his Muggle parents..." Harry closed his eyes in frustration. "But what the hell does that have to do with Snape's office?

"All right...Snape's office. Full of slimy things. My mother...? But she doesn't have anything to do with Voldemort, except for the fact that she died to protect me from him...Where is Snape's office? In the dungeons--"

Harry's eyes snapped open. The dungeons. Original Voldemort.

"It all makes sense!" he whispered. "Voldemort's father went to go live with his Muggle parents after abandoning his wife...Snape is being held in what looked like a dungeon...He's in the old Riddle House, in the dungeons!"

Harry grabbed the map out of his pocket, searching for Dumbledore. He wasn't in his office, the Great Hall, nor was he walking down any corridor Harry could see...

"Oh, hell," Harry growled, "I'll do this myself."

He started for the door, but stopped. He couldn't just arrive at the old Riddle House, go down to the dungeons, and miraculously save Snape without being killed. Voldemort was obviously going to be there as well, and Harry didn't feel like trying to escape death yet again. But who to talk to? And how to take his attention away from Snape? It had to be a Death Eater...Someone close enough to Voldemort to convince him...Someone like--

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "Why didn't I think of this in the first place? All right. Got to contact Malfoy..." He walked over to the fireplace, and, pulling out his wand, muttered, "Incendio!"

The flames burst to life, cackling merrily. Hoping that Invisibility Cloaks weren't flammable, Harry grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder from the bowl on the mantel, tossed it into the fireplace, and whispered, "Malfoy Manor!" The fire turned a sickly green, and Harry thrust his head into it.

His head spun through the emerald fire, hands and knees cold on the stone floor of the dungeon room. When it stopped, Harry swallowed the vile taste out of his mouth and took a look around, feeling sick.

It was certainly an impressive room, with high ceilings and extravagant furniture. The couch and armchairs were black leather, the tables and bookcases smooth and reeking of expensive taste. Paintings of rich looking, silver-haired people lined the wall, each looking about with a permanent sneer upon their face. Harry couldn't make out the titles of the books, but a few looked similar to the ones in the Black's study.

The door swung open. Harry whipped his head towards the direction of the noise, and saw Lucius Malfoy stride into the room, closely followed by Draco. Neither of them noticed that a head was floating in their fireplace, so Harry assumed that Invisibility Cloaks worked for Floo Powder.

"I'm sure the Dark Lord would like to know why you proved Black was innocent at his trial," Lucius was saying. "Having the public believe that Wormtail was dead was quite helpful--"

"Father, it has brought me much closer to Dumbledore!" exclaimed Malfoy. Harry noticed he was rubbing his left forearm, wincing. "And hasn't he always stood in the way of Potter?"

"If you're so close to Dumbledore, where is he hiding Potter?" Lucius barked in his son's face. "He's left his aunt and uncle's home, and he isn't at the Weasley's poor excuse for a home--in fact, no one is at the Burrow! Where are they?"

"Father, I told you already," Malfoy said impatiently. "Dumbledore wouldn't tell me where he took me. Said it was too dangerous. I have no idea where it is, whether it's in England, some island in the middle of nowhere, or just a hole in the ground!"

"Some help you're turning out to be," Lucius growled. He turned on his heel, walked over to the bookcase, and ripped a book off the shelf. He sat down in one of the armchairs, flipped to a page, and began to read.

"I am helping," Malfoy insisted. "Didn't I tell you not to bother going to Diagon Alley, that Dumbledore certainly wouldn't allow Potter to go? That saved a lot of time!"

"Yes," Lucius said through gritted teeth. He finished reading--it looked as though he had used it as an excuse not to speak with his son--and tossed the book onto the coffee table. "I expect more once school starts. You know that you may have to leave the grounds for meetings?"

"Of course. That's what Professor Snape told me."

Lucius sneered. "You may not want to listen to Snape anymore. He's currently being punished by the Dark Lord, for giving Potter Occlumency lessons."

"Why?" Malfoy asked curiously. "He's doing what Dumbledore told him to do. You know, playing the whole double agent act."

Lucius's sneer became more pronounced. "You should know, Draco, that Snape has not always been so loyal to the Dark Lord. Why, back when you were just a baby--"

"I'm not sure I need history lessons this early in the morning, Father."

"If you don't need lessons, you can do your summer work."

"Now?"

"Now." Lucius pointed to one of the desks. "I want to see that Charms essay done when I get back."

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked as he made his way to the desk.

"That, Draco, is my business," Lucius called over his shoulder as he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Malfoy sighed heavily, but dipped a quill into the inkbottle, and began to scribble across a spare piece of parchment.

Harry waited a couple of minutes to allow Lucius time to leave, then cleared his throat. Malfoy, still writing, said, "I'm working on it, Father. It'll be done in an hour."

When there was no reply, Malfoy frowned and turned to the door, a quill still in his hand. "Father?"

"Fireplace," Harry coughed loudly. Malfoy whirled around to face the fireplace, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Harry sighed. "It's me, you idiot."

The quill fell from Malfoy's hand, splattering ink across the hardwood floor. He stared at the fireplace, shaking his head. "Where are you?"

"I've got my Invisibility Cloak on," Harry explained. "Get over here, it'll look odd if you're talking to nothing."

"It'll look odd if I'm talking to the fire," Malfoy pointed out, but walked over and crouched by the fireplace. "Why did you feel the urge to call me on the Floo? You aren't at Black's house, are you?" he added quickly. "They'll know--"

"I'm at Hogwarts, Malfoy," Harry interrupted. "Dumbledore took me here this morning. I'm in Snape's office."

"He's back?" Malfoy asked eagerly. "Is he okay--?"

"He's not back." Harry rapidly told Malfoy what he had seen in his vision; how he had been able to control Voldemort's actions for a short period of time, and Snape's odd message. "I have an idea where he is, but I wanted to be sure."

"Shouldn't you be talking to Dumbledore?" asked Malfoy uneasily.

"He's not here." Harry paused. Should he tell Malfoy about the map? "I--er--have a map of Hogwarts, tells you where people are--"

"I know," Malfoy cut in. "Wormtail was talking about it once. He helped make it, didn't he? With your dad?"

"Yes," Harry answered tensely, "but I didn't come here to talk to you about that. Do you know where Snape is being held?"

"Yeah," Malfoy said, "the old Riddle House, in Little Hangleton; my father told me earlier today."

"Why haven't you told Dumbledore?" Harry cried out. "Snape's in danger, you inadequate excuse for a human being--"

"I did," Malfoy cut in smoothly. "Why else do you think he was at headquarters so early this morning? The Ministry can't watch our fires, nor can they keep track of headquarters' Floo connections. It's a safe way to talk, now that they've put up new wards. Illegal, yes, but safer."

"Oh." Harry was silent for a moment. "Well, what can you tell me about the Riddle House?"

"It's where the Dark Lord's father went to live, you know, after he abandoned his wife. He was killed there, too, along with his parents, a little more than fifty years ago. The Dark Lord murdered them."

"For someone who didn't want any lessons, you certainly pay attention to your history," Harry said wryly.

Malfoy laughed. There wasn't any humour to it. "Well, if he's going to be my Master now, I might as well do a background check."

"Yeah. Listen, can you find some way to get Voldemort--"

Malfoy cringed, rubbing the Dark Mark on his left forearm.

"Er, sorry. I mean, can you get You-Know-Who out of that house?"

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Malfoy exclaimed. "First of all, the Dark Lord won't really care what I say, so I can't really distract him. Secondly, he'll know something's up if Snape is saved right after I told him something."

"When's the next meeting?" Harry asked.

"Tomorrow night." A spark of amusement appeared in his grey eyes. "Crabbe and Goyle will be entered into service."

Harry snorted. "That should be entertained. Anyway, do you know where the meeting will be?"

"'Course not. Apparently, we never know until we get there," Malfoy explained. "All I know is that it's never the same place twice, and usually in some remote area that the Ministry can't find."

Harry thought this over as the flames licked his ears. "Do you know if it'll be anywhere close to the Riddle House?"

"I told you," Malfoy said exasperatedly, "I don't--" An odd expression crossed his pale face. "You're not thinking of going tonight, are you?"

"I seem to be the only person who cares whether or not he dies," Harry said fiercely. "Remus and Dumbledore believe he can take care of himself."

"He probably can."

"But you didn't see my vision!" Harry exclaimed. "I could feel Vol--sorry, I forgot again--You-Know-Who's--emotions. He was furious, I could tell, and all of his power was directed at making Snape feel pain...That's why I could control him. All his strength was devoted to something else."

"How was he torturing him?" Malfoy asked curiously.

"It looked like the Cruciatus Curse from the beginning, and then he brought out this big whip that was on fire," Harry recalled. "And Snape was chained to a wall."

Malfoy snickered. "The Dark Lord's got a kinky side. Whips and chains. Were either of them wearing leather?"

Harry's upper lip curled back at the thought. "You-Know-Who's sexual habits do not need to be discussed."

"Fair enough."

They remained silent for the next few minutes.

"I've got an idea," said Malfoy finally. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I think Hell just froze over. And there's pigs flying around in your backyard."

"Consider a career as a comedian, Potter, when you're done saving the world. Anyway, how about I send you a signal to let you know if it's safe to go to the Riddle House? I know this charm that can send wand sparks to a certain person, and they'll be the only people who can see it."

"How do I know you'll be telling the truth?" Harry challenged. Malfoy surveyed him unblinkingly.

"You'll just have to trust me."

Harry sighed. He had been expecting that. "Will it get through to Hogwarts, though?"

"Yeah. What colours, though?"

"Gold for safe, red for not safe?"

"Typical," Malfoy snorted. "Gryffindor colours."

Harry rolled his eyes, even though he knew Malfoy could not see them. "Fine. You choose."

"Nah, red and gold will be good. I can only do a few colours, and those I can do." Malfoy looked over his shoulder. "Listen, you better get going. I don't know how long my father's going to be gone, and the teachers will probably notice if you're missing."

"All right. Thanks."

"No problem," Malfoy said nonchalantly. "Seeing as how I'm supposed to be a double-agent, I might as well get started with this secret business."

"Right. Bye, then." Harry pulled his head out of the fireplace, the feeling of his head revolving on his shoulders making him dizzy. He stood up as the flames flickered and died, brushing soot out of his hair.

Harry took off the cloak, folding it into a small square and stuffing it into the waistband of his jeans along with the rolled up Map. Keeping his hand on the handle of his wand, he left Snape's rooms, and began to walk through the dungeons.

Harry came up into the Entrance Hall, closing the door quietly behind him. He turned towards the stairs, and nearly tripped over Professor Flitwick, who squealed in surprise and fell over.

"Sorry, Professor!" Harry cried apologetically, crouching down and helping Flitwick up. The Charms Professor brushed dirt off his robes, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"It's all right, Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "I was looking for you anyway--by the way, what were you doing in the dungeons?" he added.

"I was--er--checking the student cupboard for salamander blood," Harry lied quickly. "I have to write an essay on Strengthening Solutions for Professor Snape, and I wanted first-hand experience with it."

Professor Flitwick nodded as though this made perfect sense, and said, "Well, Mr. Potter, I've got that motorcycle the Ministry asked me to look at. It's been looked over, and it's clean."

"You've got Sirius's motorcycle?" Harry exclaimed, a smile appearing on his face and happiness swelling in his chest.

"Yes," Flitwick squeaked. "It's in my classroom, follow me..."

Harry followed the tiny man up to the Charms corridor, and into the classroom. Professor Flitwick held open to door for him, beaming as Harry's mouth dropped open.

It was a beautiful bike. It was jet-black, sleek looking and powerful. Harry couldn't find words to describe it.

Harry didn't know much about motorcycles, though one of Dudley's cousins, Devon, a boy about eight or nine years older than Harry, loved them. Devon had ridden his motorcycle to one of the Dursley's awful dinner parties when Harry was ten, and showed him how to drive it. He was obviously proud of it, and told Harry so. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had banned Devon from visiting ever again, however, because he had been too nice to Harry.

"Sirius bought the bike before his seventh year," piped up Professor Flitwick from the door. "He loved to ride it around the grounds."

"I would, too, if I had a bike like that," Harry said in wonder. He touched the handlebars hesitantly, as though expecting it would crumble to pieces at his touch.

"There was a helmet, a jacket, boots, and a short letter along with it," added Professor Flitwick. "They're over there." He gestured to one of the desks. Harry looked over, and saw an equally dark helmet and jacket. The jacket was made of leather. He slipped it on, and found that it fit perfectly. A jolt of excitement stung the back of his neck, causing the hairs to rise.

Harry picked up the helmet, surprised at the heavy weight and the slippery feel in his hands. On the back was a drawing of a wolf, howling at the moon. Remus, Harry thought automatically.

"And the letter?" Harry continued, picking it up.

"Charms for the motorcycle," Professor Flitwick explained. "How to make it silent, keep it in shape, make it fly faster...If you'll excuse me, Mr. Potter, I have some work to do, and I must get going."

"All right. Thanks a lot, Professor," Harry said, still gazing at the bike. As soon as he heard Flitwick's footsteps dying down the corridor, a sly smile spread across his face. He had been wondering how to get to the Riddle House without being noticed by the teachers, or breaking too many laws...

"Potter, you're good," Harry said to himself, running a hand over the bike lovingly. His grin grew broader as he read the instructions Sirius had left him, describing the basics of riding the bike. "Too good..."