Dark Coil

Dark Coil Chapter Thirteen

The Dark Corner of the Mind

He realized he was not alone in whatever dark corner of Hell he had Apparated into. Around him could be heard the rustling of robes, the forced calm of others' breathing, an occasional scrape as someone shifted an impatient or perhaps nervous foot. Though his eyes were accustomed to the dark, the blackness surrounding him and the others had a thickness that could not be penetrated. There was a cloying quality to the murk. It seemed to cling to his skin and worm its way through his hair, install itself under the hideous mask he had donned at his summoning. His robes began to feel heavier, as if a void were sucking at him, pulling him down.

Snape gave himself a mental shake. Only wards, fool! Remain calm. Breathe...breathe...breathe.... Obviously, Voldemort had set charms and spells around his den. Mustn't let the neighbors see, Snape remarked snidely to himself. Preparing for a protracted wait, Snape settled into his mind. He relaxed his knees to prevent himself from passing out and practiced the calming exercises he was forced to learn for moments such as this.

Fortunately--or unfortunately--the wait was a short one.

There came a subtle scrapping, like shifting sand. Further away at first, then coming closer. Someone behind Snape gasped, then choked off the sound. He forced himself to remain motionless as something huge glided past him on the floor, its weight pressing into the side of his booted calf. There came a cracking, popping noise and then before Snape appeared a thin sliver of carmine light, like a glowing trickle of blood oozing down the blackness that surrounded him and the others. The glow grew brighter--no, wider--and Snape understood that he was observing doors being opened. The gap continued to grow and now a searing heat could be felt like a rushing wind, whipping at robes and hair. Then it was gone, the pressure in the room released by the opening portal.

"My faithful."

Snape bowed his head, and heard the echoing rustle of fabric as those around him assumed the same submissive posture.

"Enter. Come to me."

Heads bowed, the Death Eaters came into the presence of their Lord.

The chamber they entered was vast, the bloody glow that painted the very air fading to black in the distance. The muffled tread of their feet was deadened in the expanse surrounding them. Without daring an upward glance, Snape realized the red glare and scorching heat came from a massive fire. He could see a flickering and fluttering in the shadows of his robe.

It burned without sound. There was no roar of flames, no cracking and popping of fuel as it was being consumed, only the pressure of the heat as it gusted past the slowly-advancing forms. A slender, sinuous shape glided ahead of the group, scales rasping on the stone floor as it flowed along. The diamonds along its glittering hide tossed ruby flashes like flecks of blood into the air.

As if by mutual consent, the vanguard of the group came to a halt, those in the rear continuing on until a broken circle had formed around an ornate throne. The Death Eaters encircled their lord, their bodies evenly spaced, except in places where gaps indicated there were a number of them missing.

Upon a seat of heavily-carved wood sat Voldemort. His eyes, like smoldering embers, burned red in their sockets. The skin on his head and face was the blue-black of a rotting corpse, his features like those of an unfinished sculpture, the cheeks sunken, the nostrils mere slits in the skin above thin fleshless lips. A black, spider-like hand stroked the head of the massive snake, Nagini. The serpent had coiled itself about his master's chair, the wedge-shaped head resting on a scarlet-robed knee.

"My faithful, you have responded to my call. I am pleased with you."

There was a brief ripple of robes as the circle of Death Eaters bowed low from their waists, then as one they fell on their faces, murmuring praises to the horror on the throne.

Voldemort allowed the adulation to continue for some time, feeding on their homage and their fear. Oh, yes. They fear me, he gloated in the black vaults of his mind. Even as they sing my glory, they cringe in abject fear!

He derived power from that fear, fed on it as if were the choicest food, drank it in like fine wine. And like wine, the fear made him drunk with power. He would bring them to him one at a time that he might experience their trembling.

One by one they were summoned before the black throne, to grovel and tremble in horrible ecstasy as Voldemort stroked them.

He praised them.

He punished them.

He called them his children, his precious ones.

And then he cursed them and watched as each writhed in agony at his feet.

Snape kept his face pressed to the cold, hard stone. Behind the mask, his lips moved in meaningless gibberish as his mind struggled to remain fixed on the task before him.

Do not break.

He heard the tortured screams of the others and knew that soon he would be thrashing and howling until his throat bled from the strain.

Do not break.

"Severus."

My Lord, Snape responded in his mind.

"Come to me, Severus."

And Snape pulled his long body across the harsh stone, attempting to control the tempo of his breathing, slow the thundering of his heart.

I have endured pain.

I can endure more pain.

I am in control.

He continued his abject crawl until his face rested upon Voldemort's boots. Here Snape removed the mask and forced himself to press his lips to the leather, slick with the offerings of those before him. He waited, his body tense, for the permission to raise his face and gaze upon his lord and master.

No! Not my lord!

No longer.

I am in control.

"Rise Severus." The voice was a rasp, stone over stone, in his mind.

Snape pushed his body erect until he knelt on both knees, his hands clasped before him in supplication. His head remained bowed, the hood of his robe casting his face in shadow. Two wretched hands appeared in his line of vision, rising up on either side of his face, gently pushing the hood back and away. Snape forced himself to calm as those hands cupped his cheeks, the thumbs caressing tenderly.

Voldemort lifted Snape's face until the eyes of the demon seared those of the kneeling wizard.

Severus, my lovely. I have missed you.

A trembling had started in Snape's hands and threatened to move up his arms.

You tremble, Severus! Are you cold?

"No, my lord," Snape managed to whisper hoarsely.

Ah, you are frightened! It is good for you to fear me, Severus. I can bring you greatness. I can also bring you terrible suffering.

The trembling snaked its way into Snape's shoulders. "Yes, master. I accept that as your faithful servant." The glowing embers invaded the deepest parts of him. They attempted to slash through any barriers that may have been erected, toppling walls of protection and leaving the victim naked and defenseless.

Are you my servant, Severus?

The fingers on Snape's face tightened. He tried not to flinch from the pain.

"Yes, my Lord."

How would you prove yourself to me?

Meeting the burning eyes with enough steel to demonstrate his strength, but not enough to challenge, Snape replied, "What would you ask of me, my Lord?"

Would you suffer for me?

"I have, and will suffer for you," the kneeling man responded.

Will you kill for me?

"I have done so. I will do so, if you ask it of me."

Would you die for me?

Snape never blinked. He gazed steadily into the flaming sockets before him.

"Yes, my Lord. If it be your will."

Voldemort continued to study Snape. His black, cold fingers had recommenced their tender, hideous stroking of Snape's face.

Ah Severus! You are my shining one! My precious. I have such hopes for you.

"Let me serve you, master." Snape hoped he injected the necessary amount of eagerness into his plea.

Such devotion. Let me reward you. You will please me, yes?

The trembling had taken over Snape's entire body now. He knew what was coming, tried to shield his mind from it, steel his body against it. He could feel the tears of anticipated agony welling up in his eyes as Voldemort lowered his face to Snape's. For a moment, cold, dead lips were pressed to warm, trembling ones. Voldemort pulled back slightly, so that he could see the fear, the knowing, in the eyes of his victim.

Softly, almost tenderly, he whispered, "Crucio."

The wizard's body was instantly engulfed in searing agony. The blood pulsing through his veins carried the pain to every fiber, every cell. He crashed backwards onto the stone floor, his cloaked body twisting, thrashing. Even through the wracking pain, Snape knew that if he screamed and pleaded, the curse would intensify. He fought to seal his lips. He felt as if the tendons of his frame were being stretched to the tearing point, as if he were being ripped to pieces by some ferocious beast.

For what seemed like hours, Snape writhed on the floor before the throne of Voldemort. His lips bled from the effort of holding back his screams. Then, with one final, violent jolt of agony, he was released.

You have pleased me, Severus. Return to your place and await your instructions.

So dismissed, the gasping wizard pushed himself backward across the floor to resume his place in the circle. His body continued to spasm as the flames of the Cruciatus Curse flickered along his tortured nerve endings. He lay for a long time on the cold stone, tears pooling under his cheek. The screams and pleadings of the remaining Death Eaters floated above his head, unheard as Snape tried to regain control of his mind and body.

He might have passed out. He couldn't be sure. There was quiet in the cavernous chamber broken only by an occasional groan, hastily bitten off. Snape dared not move. Dared not call attention to himself. Better to wait until Voldemort was ready to give them his orders.

It seemed that the other Death Eaters were of the same mind, for they all remained still and quiet until a sudden hissed command slashed through their minds.

Rise!

Snape thought his head would explode, but he pushed himself to his feet, set the mask securely on his face and turned towards the huge fire that continued to burn fiercely but silently. Voldemort's tall frame was thrown into monstrous shadow along the floor as he moved to stand before the fire. From the inky blackness of the cavern's nether regions came a line of hooded figures, robed in deepest gray. Their heads were downcast, and Snape could not tell if they were male, female or both, but the members of this gray band were small and slender and he wondered at their purpose.

Slowly and silently they passed by the Death Eaters and moved to circle the fire. When the blaze was completely surrounded, the slender forms turned their backs to the flame, facing outward, as if watching, warding.

Behold, the altar of Brigit. My bride.

Several of the Death Eaters had the poor manners to mutter amongst themselves. Snape remained alone, his bowels turned to ice.

Just yesterday, her flame burst forth! My beloved walks this earth. And see her handmaidens await the arrival of the bride.

Yet, there is one missing! Where is the last of my beloved's maids?

This last bit amounted to no more than theatrics. Snape wanted to groan. He stifled the urge even more when terrified screams and pleadings rent the air around him.

A thin, balding wizard in tattered robes was dragging a young Muggle girl into the chamber. A rope bound her wrists and the wizard held the loose end like a leash. The girl's screams for help were choked off by horror as she took in the scene before her. Snape could hear the child's haggard breathing (she could be no more than twelve or thirteen), see her terrified eyes open wide as she witnessed a glimpse of Hell. She stumbled along behind her keeper, her tear-streaked face turned to the silent bonfire and the skeletal figure that stood before it.

The nerves of his body screaming for action, Snape forced himself to stand mute as the Muggle child was led to her death. He had witnessed many murders. Committed many murders.

He accepted the guilt for them all.

In the deepest part of himself, Snape mourned for the terrified child before him, as he asked himself, Is her death worth the sacrifice? Will my silence make a difference?

In the end, he turned his face away as Voldemort kissed the child good night.

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Now there were nineteen.

Nineteen hooded figures circling the fire, facing outwards. Their duty to ward and protect.

The husk of the last maiden lay forgotten by most of the gathered Death Eaters.

I have a task for each of you,

the voice blasted into their minds.

Behold my mate, my beloved.

And in the flames, there appeared a woman. The dancing fires formed a body, lithe and trim. Tendrils of smoke whipped about themselves, producing wisps of light brown hair that snaked themselves about the female form and tantalized those who watched the manifestation.

The figure was nude.

Though the frame was small, this was no child. The breasts were high and round. The waist, while trim, did not possess the reediness of adolescence. The hips were rounded and full with womanly health and vigor. This was a woman in the prime of her life. A life-bearing vessel. A goddess.

Snape stared at the image immerging from the flames. He knew whom he would see.

Knew her voice.

Knew her form.

Knew her kiss.

It was Olivia.

The image in the flames was Olivia.

Behold my wife! She lives, yet I know not where.

You must seek her out and bring her before me.

Study well her face and form.

Find her.

Bring her to me.

Now, go!

And as leaves before the winter wind, the Death Eaters scattered.

Save one.

Severus Snape stood just inside the door leading from the altar room. Voldemort's skeletal frame remained before the fire, studying the lovely form within. But it was not this image that held the wizard.

A twisted, ragged wizard had skittered from the shadows and approached the dried husk of the dead Muggle child. Grasping one wasted arm, the figure began to drag the corpse away.

There was something in the darting wizard's manner that caught Snape's attention. Something that struck him as familiar.

The figure and the ghastly item it hauled behind were swallowed in the shadows.

Glancing about to see if any others lingered, Snape hastily followed.

The tunnel that they traversed was choked in refuse and weeds. Obviously some sort of storm drain, long unused. The furtive figure ahead of Snape wasted no time in making his way along the tunnel. He stopped just long enough to check the intersecting pipes before dragging his burden on.

A freshening in the stale air and a brightening in the light alerted Snape that they were approaching an exit. He ducked into the lingering shadow as his quarry dropped his burden and began to climb a ladder leading up to the light.

A grinding, rasping sound indicated a heavy object being moved. The scrambling wizard returned to the tunnel and snatched the girl's body upon his shoulders. Red, beady eyes scanned the darkness behind him before he hoisted himself and his dreadful burden upwards.

Cautiously, the dark wizard followed.

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Wormtail wrestled the body of the girl through the drainage hole. She was slight, but he was so tired. So very tired.

He tried not to remember the words he had spoken to the child to calm her. The lies he had uttered that allowed him to get close enough to touch her, bind her, kill her.

The dumps around London were becoming too crowded. Too many Muggle police. Too many Muggle television vans with their blinding lights and satellite dishes. It was too much for him to put up with just to dump a body.

So Wormtail had changed his method.

Like a true rat, he had taken to the sewers. He had spent hours and hours investigating their many paths and branches. This particular drain led right to a lovely, dark section of docks along the Thames. He would toss the girl's remains in the river like the others and then make his way back through the sewers. Just like a rat.

Grasping a shriveled arm, Wormtail began to drag the body to the dock's edge. He never noticed the darker shape emerging from the sewer behind him.

"Hello, Peter." The sound of black ice.

The cowering wizard dropped his burden and whirled, eyes narrowed as he attempted to penetrate the murk behind him. He could make out a black shape coming nearer.

"Come no closer!" he squealed. The looming figure paid no heed to his words. Threads of panic began to work their way around the tattered wizard's heart.

"Who...who are you?" Wormtail whined as he fumbled through his pockets for his wand.

"Peter, have the years been so unkind that you could forget me? Or has it been the company you keep? Lumos!"

Wormtail flinched as the other's wand flared and cast a cold blue light on the surroundings.

"Severus?" Peter whispered. He stepped closer, but found Snape's wand pointed steadily at his heart.

"Peter, you will never know how angry I am to know that you are actually alive," Snape drawled in that dangerous tone Peter remembered so well from their school days.

"Angry, Severus? You should be pleased to know I escaped Black's curse. I have been in hiding, for fear..." Peter's tiny eyes darted back and to, seeking a means of escape. Severus stood between him and the sewer.

"Oh do shut up, Peter. You have placed me in a most annoying position. For these many years I have savored the knowledge that Sirius Black was a murdering bastard, and that his time in Azkaban was deserved." Snape sighed heavily, pushing his black hair from his brow. "But now, now here you are." He punctuated each word by tapping on Peter's glistening head with the glowing wand tip.

"What I am I to do with you, Peter?"

"Do with me, Severus?" Peter sniveled. "Why let me return to the master, of course."

"I can't do that, Peter. See, your living proves that I was wrong all those years. I really hate it when I am proven wrong, Peter. It really pisses me off!" Snape loomed over the cowering Peter.

"YOU THERE, METRO POLICE. FREEZE!"

The voice was magnified and seemed to come from all directions.

"Nox!" Snape's wand went dark.

The last he saw of Pettigrew was a bald, pink tail slithering into the sewer and then his world was flooded with light.

Snape threw up an arm to shield his face.

"He's got a gun! He's got a gun!"

There was an explosive CRACK! and the wizard felt something slam into his shoulder, spinning him around. Numbness filled his shoulder and upper arm but Snape forced himself upright, only to have the sound repeated, felt the same hammer-like blow. This time it struck his chest. His wand fell as he placed his other hand on his chest.

Odd, but his fingers felt slick, warm. Glancing down, Snape was mildly surprised to see his hand and robes covered with fresh blood. His knees buckled and he collapsed forward onto the concrete. Through a rapidly gathering fog, he could hear the sound of approaching feet, voices.

"Where's the other one?" A strong voice, one used to being obeyed. "There were two men here. Spread out! Fan the area! You there, take another man and check that drain there."

"Yes, sir!" came from several voices at once.

The strong voice came closer to the black figure crumpled on the ground.

"We are going to need medical attention on this one. Two rounds fired, correct?"

"Yes, sir. My side-arm sir."

"We will take care of the details back at the station, Murry. I am sure you did the right thing. Now, secure that fire arm and get me an ambulance. And if that over there is what I think it is, alert the coroner as well."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

"Cover this one while we check him out, Lundy. Now, laddie. Let's see who you are."

Snape felt his hands being seized and brought firmly behind his back. They were locked in palce by a bracelet of cold metal, then he was gently, but firmly rolled to his side. He could not prevent the gasping moan that slipped from his lips.

"What do you think you're playing out son, bloody Dracula?" Fingers were probing into his robes, searching. "Bring that light here, Lundy." The strong voice demanded. The searching and probing continued.

"Damn! Damn! Where's the bloody gun? Who said they was a gun?" The voice had gone from strong to furious.

"I…I saw it sir." Murry? Snape tried to place the voice, remain lucid. The voices seemed to be floating away.

"He had a weapon in his hand and raised it to the firing position." Murry tried to sound firm.

"Could it be he was actually holding this?"

My wand.

Muggles have my wand.

The fog was getting thicker, the numbness was fading and was being replaced by searing pain, much like the Cruciatus. He fought to keep his eyes open, his mind clear, but the flashing lights and shouting voices faded further and further away.

Just before blackness closed in, Snape reached out. He pushed with his fading consciousness and felt a touch.

Olivia!

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"There's a good boy," Olivia murmured to Cat as the huge feline wove in and out through her moving feet. "Careful, you silly thing. You are going to make me fall and then you will have to answer to Madam Pomfrey!"

Placing the bowl of chopped salmon on the floor before the fire, Olivia sat and watched Cat devour the food, his rumbling purr filling the quiet of the room. She had been released from under the watchful and worried eyes of Poppy just hours before and had spent quite some time in Dumbledore's chambers going over the events of the previous evening with the headmaster and Professor McGonagall. Minerva's lips had fixed themselves into tight pucker and had remained that way during the entire interview. Dumbledore expressed his shock with the potion master's methods, but in the end, gently informed Olivia that perhaps the brutal night had not been without its benefits. Minerva had become explosive at that point.

"Benefits? What benefit was there in such a monstrous assault! Albus, you did not see what that bastard did to my daughter! He used a firebolt curse, Albus! Olivia's ribs were broken…"

"Cracked, Mama," Olivia interrupted softly.

The older witch hissed air through that tiny pin prick that was her mouth. "Cracked, broken! What's the difference, I ask? He was instructed to counsel you, not kill you!"

"But he didn't kill her, Minerva," Dumbledore said smoothly. "I doubt he would have been able to do so." Professor McGonagall sucked in for another bout, but the elderly wizard stayed her with a raised hand. "While I have my own misgivings about Severus' ways, they have accomplished the desired result. Olivia is no longer relying on weaker magic to manifest her skills and I feel the test she endured--and passed quite nicely by the way--" the blue eyes twinkled at Olivia over the half-moon glasses; "--will prove to be invaluable in the weeks and months to come."

The headmaster fixed Olivia with a penetrating eye. "Olivia, if you can, please describe the sensations you experienced when you touched the…hmmm? Magic? I suppose for want of a better word. What is it like, my dear?"

Olivia had remained in thoughtful silence for a bit. "It was easy, after I decided I didn't want to die on such a lovely morning." She laughed softly, but cut it off quickly when she caught her mother's angry expression. "Anyway. It was like, I don't know. Taking the seal off of a spring. Suddenly, it was there, flowing through me, like water or light. When I thought of something, I was able to make it happen. I knew I didn't want Professor Snape to hurt me anymore. And you might not like this Mama, but he was suffering, too. I wanted to stop it all. And I did…" Her voice faded away and she sat looking at her fingers as she wrapped a stray thread from her robe around and around.

"It has been there all my life. This power, I mean," Olivia continued, not raising her head. "I knew what it was all about. The midwife told my mother the night I was born. A wise woman was summoned to read an augury and it just told my parents what they feared all along. As I grew up and things just happened… well, I know it scared them. I could make a cup of milk appear without magic. When I was bored or upset my toys would dance and romp to cheer me up. I would amuse myself by changing into different animals that I had seen in a picture book. I know that is what finally made them send me away." She stopped and raised a hand to wipe at her face.

"They were frightened of me, of what could happen to them if I stayed. They sent me away. I thought I was something terrible, a monster. I forced myself to leave the power alone, to become more like the other children in the home where I was placed. I knew no one would ever love me if they knew what I was, who I was."

Olivia smiled gratefully at Dumbledore when a steaming cup of tea appeared at her elbow. "Thank you. I didn't make you …? Did I?"

Dumbledore chuckled as he handed a cup to Minerva. "No, no. I just felt the time was right for a bracing cup of tea. Biscuit?"

Both women refused and the old man resumed his seat, sipping contentedly from his own cup.

"I had hoped that if I hid well enough and didn't touch the power, Voldemort would not discover me," Olivia whispered.

"That is why you stayed in America as you grew, my darling," Minerva informed her. "We all feared if you were too close to him, he would sense you and come for you while you were still a child."

"It wasn't until all of these Muggle killings began to occur that it was felt you would be better protected here at Hogwarts. That and the fact you were adult and hopefully, better equipped to handle what was required of you," the headmaster added. "You can't bury yourself when destiny chooses you for a particular purpose."

"Uncle, do you have any idea where Sev…Professor Snape is now?" Olivia decided it was time to change the subject.

"Unfortunately, no. When Voldemort summons his Death Eaters, they appear immediately at his side the next time they Apparate."

"He asked me to look after Cat," Olivia said. "He acted like he might not be coming back." She looked at her uncle for reassurance.

He had none to give.

"Every time Severus responds to Voldemort's call could be his last. I have asked him many times to cease. The cost to his safety is too high." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "But Severus does not see it that way. He places no value on his life and believes others to feel the same. I cannot make him see differently."

Olivia soon took her leave, using checking on Cat as her excuse.

*********************************************************************

"What are you doing in here?"

Olivia's head snapped around. She had left the door to Snape's chamber open and Pansy Parkinson stood just inside the portal, her eyes suspiciously darting about the room.

Olivia rose and smoothed her hands down the front of her robe. Fixing a friendly smile on her lips the older witch replied, "I could ask the same question of you, Pansy."

"I am looking for Professor Snape. I want to ask him a question about…the…assigned reading for tomorrow." Pansy stepped further into the room. She had obviously never seen Snape's chambers before. Her tiny eyes were everywhere, taking in the furnishings, the bookshelves, and the graceful witch by the fire.

"Professor Snape has left Hogwarts, Pansy. I do not know when he will be back. I have been employed as the 'cat sitter' until he returns, you see."

Pansy gave Olivia a startled look. "Cat? The professor has a cat?" she asked in a disbelieving voice.

"Well, see for yourself." Olivia laughed, beckoning the young witch forward.

Pansy moved around the end of the sofa and spotted Cat, who was now spreading essence of smoked salmon through his thick hair.

"Professor Snape asked that I keep an eye on Cat. I may carry him back to my chambers if the professor has not come by and by. I wouldn't want him here alone. He is such a sweetie, aren't you?" Olivia crouched down and ran her nails along the black and gray striped back. She glanced over her shoulder and caught the look of amazement on Pansy's oatmeal-colored face.

"I didn’t know the professor had a familiar, he just doesn’t seem the type." Realizing what she had said, Pansy pressed her lips tightly and glanced away. "Why did he ask you to watch his familiar? Why didn't he just ask a member of his house?"

"You will have to ask the professor that question yourself, Pansy. Would you like for me to tell him you stopped by?" Olivia inquired.

"No. No, there is no need to do that. I will just talk to him at another time." The teenager turned to the door. "I will come back before Potions class tomorrow."

As Pansy moved to exit, a loud THUD caused both women to jump.

A large glass orb, herbs and flowers suspended in its depths, rolled across the carpet before the fire and came to rest at Olivia's feet. Bending, she picked up the trinket and held it to the light.

"This is lovely! Where did you get it, Pansy?"

Pansy's face was a shocking red. Olivia could almost feel the heat radiating from the young woman so great was her embarrassment.

"I just picked it up…somewhere. It's not a big deal! May I have it back?" She avoided Olivia's eyes as she stuck out her hand for the orb.

Olivia was studying the girl intently. That Pansy was in distress was evident. Her face continued to burn scarlet and Olivia could see tears beginning to pool in the young witch's eyes.

Suddenly understanding, Olivia's eyes darted to the small collection of gifts sitting on the fireplace mantle. Tentatively, Olivia asked, "Would you like to leave it with the other gifts?"

Pansy's head jerked around. "What? What gifts?" she asked hoarsely.

"The other ones that Professor Snape has been given." She pointed to the objects sitting on the mantle.

"He kept them?" Pansy whispered, moving closer. Realizing what had just been revealed, she snapped at Olivia. "I bet you think it is really sad, don't you? Some stupid teenager giving presents to the teacher."

Olivia smiled at Pansy. "Actually, I think it is very nice. I haven't been given any gifts and I never scream at my students. Perhaps I should give it a try, who knows?" Reaching up, Olivia placed the shining glass ornament beside the other items. "There, he will be able to see it when he returns."

Pansy had fled towards the door. Olivia's voice stopped her. "Pansy, I will not tell him about the gifts. I just want you to know. I will keep your secret."

The young woman did not look back, simply nodded her head once and was gone.

Olivia bent and scooped the boneless Cat into her arms. Nuzzling the vibrating animal, Olivia crossed the room and closed the chamber door.

"Let's sit here for a while and see if Severus comes home soon, okay?" she asked the drooling feline. "If he doesn't show up soon, I will take you home with me."

Olivia settled into a comfortable chair and lay Cat across her lap. Her fingers caressed the sleeping animal while her mind wandered along paths dark and troubled.

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Olivia!

Olivia woke with a scream. Cat yowled and fled from her lap to his masters chambers.

Someone had called her name! The sound of it had exploded in her ears.

Her head filled with flashes of red and blue, the pain in her upper body causing her to gasp and almost slump from the chair. Raw panic wound its way through her body as her eyes darted frantically about the dimly lit chamber. Cold sweat popped out on her face and arms, her stomach roiled violently.

A dream! A horrible, terrible dream! Olivia forced her body to calm, tried to slow her rapid gasps for air.

Just a dream.

Closing her eyes, Olivia felt the horror and panic of the image fade. She could still clearly see the red and blue flashes bathing the scene in fire and ice. A dried, corpse-like thing lay near by and pain had flooded her body, seizing up her brain.

But control was returning. Slowly, slowly. Deep even breaths.

As her heart rate returned to normal, Olivia opened her eyes and surveyed the chamber. The fire had died low, leaving the room dim and cold. She had fallen asleep with Cat on her lap, waiting, hoping for Severus' return. He was obviously still away. The dour Professor Snape would have never let her remain sleeping in his chair, but would have politely demanded she leave.

Well, she would collect Cat and go on to her chambers.

She sent out a silent plea for Snape, hoping he was safe, well. On his way home.

The force of the images and sensations brought Olivia to her knees. Reds and blues blasted around her. She could almost hear their sounds, like a heart beat. Flash. Flash. Flash.

Shadows moved around her. She couldn't make them out with the pulsing reds and blues. Olivias' body burned in agony. Hot irons were piercing her chest and shoulder. She cried out as someone touched her and pulled her arms back. Another moan escaped her lips as her body was rolled over. Olivia looked up, tried to see through the fog of pain.

Someone was speaking, calling loudly. The pulsing reds and blues reflected off a bit of metal. Shining threads? Olivia shook her head to clear the haze and focused on the picture before her. A shoulder patch! Silver threads spelling words.

METROPOLICE

Kensington

Then blackness.

Panting, Olivia pushed herself from the floor and stumbled for the door. She had to get to Dumbledore. Had to tell him.

Olivia had no memory of her flight through the dark corridors of Hogwarts. She was driven on by desperation and need. A painful stitch had formed in her side by the time she reached the gargoyle outside the headmaster's chambers.

Hammering her fists against the stone beast Olivia cried, "Mallowcups!" and the portal swung wide. Not waiting for the stairs to carry her, Olivia grabbed her robes in both hands and sprinted upwards.

When she reached the door at the top of the stairs, her uncle was there waiting. He folded her in his arms and held her quaking body.

"Uncle Albus! Uncle…its Severus. Something terrible has happened to Severus. I don't know how, but he called me! Tonight while I was sleeping…." Her rush of words were cut off by the old man's hand on her lips.

Olivia regarded her uncle's visage. He looked two hundred years old, the hundreds of wrinkles in his dear face seemed almost painful tonight. His eyes, which usually sparkled with boyish good humor, were bleak and haunted. In a cracked, aged voice he bade her enter.

"I just had a very informative visit from the Minister of Magic, Olivia." Dumbledore beckoned her to a chair.

"He dropped by by way of Floo Powder, so great was his hurry to bring me the news."

Dumbledore slowly, painfully lowered himself into a chair.

"What did Fudge want, Uncle? What has this to do with Severus?" Olivia demanded impatiently.

"Why everything, my dear. Fudge just dropped by to let me know my Pet Death Eater has been transported to the Royal Marsden Hospital in London. Seems that the boy has gone and gotten himself shot by the Muggle police. Severus was found with the body of a Muggle child."

The old wizard turned brimming eyes on his niece. "Fudge took great pleasure in telling me that Severus is not expected to live."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, MY arguments for why Snape could be taken down by Muggle police.

1. MET police are some of the most highly trained officers in the world.
2. Sevvy has been bested before by FIRST years!! Remember the logic test Hermione Granger solved in no time flat?
3. Barty Crouch managed to pull the wool over Sevvy's eyes for an entire year!
4. Two 3^rd years and a hippogriff managed to snag the Order of Merlin from the Dark Darling in PoA.
5. Also, in PoA… the 3^rd year students not only removed his wand from his rather formidable grasp, but knockrd him out as well.
6. He has been under the Cruciatus Curse just recently. OUCH!
7. He is very unhappy about seeing Peter and not really thinking about much of anything else.
8. The lights and sound come from everywhere.
9. Having a history in law enforcement, I know just how quickly scenarios such as the one I described can go down. Believe me. It's fast.
10. Last of all…he just wasn't expecting the police!!