In Search of Sirius: The Land of the Living Dead

Chapter Seven: Betrayals

Snape's hands were on his hips, and he regarded them with that familiar sardonic glare - as though they were, in Fred's words on a previous occasion, something not even the cat could bring itself to drag in.

"Oh bloody hell," muttered Harry. "This is all we need. Can't we put him off the scent somehow - "

"Potter," Snape pronounced. "At last, I find you."

"Er - yeah - but -"

Snape was tapping his wand against his hand in some complex pattern. Ron was watching it curiously. He caught his breath. "Harry, he's casting -"

Ron's warning was too late.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Snape bellowed, pointing his wand directly toward them. All three of their wands flew towards him.

"Snape.. Professor Snape," Harry cried in agony. "You have to let me stay and see Sirius!."

"You have very curious ideas," Snape said softly, "about what I have to do. This is all very touching, Potter, but I fear you mistake the situation. Now walk."

With Snape behind them, pointing his wand at their backs, they had little choice but to do as he said. Harry had no doubt that Snape would otherwise cast some horribly humiliating spell and drag him back to Hogwarts in chains, and on his knees if necessary. Snape, in fact, would probably enjoy it.

Harry's mind flew over options. This was a dangerous and complicated land; perhaps they could use that against Snape in some way and manage to make their escape. With the way Snape felt about both Harry's father and Godfather, it was most unlikely he would be stricken with a compassionate urge and agree to allow Harry to pursue his quest.

Snape had directed them up a slope and into one of the gently wooded areas which dotted the valley hillsides.

"Stand against a tree," Snape instructed. " Separate trees, Potter...!"

Puzzled, they each went and stood beside a tree, flickering wary glances among themselves. Then they gasped: too late for them to react, Snape's wand had flickered.

"Convolvulus rapido!"

With remarkable speed, they found themselves immobilized. Bindweed snaked and twined around each of them, enwrapping them mummy-like in a cocoon of vegetation. Hermione kicked fruitlessly against the ensnaring weed; she was going red with annoyance. Snape had left their faces free.

"Oh thanks," Harry said angrily, "I suppose we should be thankful you've left space for us to breathe!"

"Yes, Potter. You should. That, however, is an error which can - very soon - be rectified."

Harry, Hermione and Ron stared at Snape. Their jaws dropped, and icy fingers began to dribble down their spines.

"Then," Ron broke in. "But .. You - you - I thought you wanted to take us back to Hogwarts!"

"That was certainly Professor Dumbledore's plan," Snape said smoothly. "However, other - masters - had rather different ideas as to what I should do with you." Hermione opened her mouth. "And one word from you, Miss Granger, and I will wrap that weed right around your bucktoothed mouth."

Horror was coursing through Harry's body. He struggled against the bindweed, but to no avail: it had formed hawser-like bonds around him. He was trapped, wandless and helpless. And so were Ron and Hermione. Harry felt sick with rage and fear and guilt.

"What now then?" Harry demanded, raising his chin to glare at Snape directly.

"I have never thought highly of your brains, Potter," Snape sighed, "but I would have thought even your puny intelligence would be up to the task of figuring this one out."

And certainly, if any of them had cherished any lingering doubts, what happened next put paid to that. The piece of air behind Snape thickened, darkened and materialized. A shape had pushed itself into being: a cloaked and skeletal figure, with long spectral fingers and palely flaring eyes.

And so Harry found himself face to face with Voldemort: not, of course, for the first time in his life. It seemed increasingly likely, however, that it would be for the last.

Snape had dropped immediately to his knees before Voldemort's shade and was trying to press his lips to the insubstantial robe.

"My lord," he said reverently.

Voldemort hissed out a sigh, heavy with satisfaction. "This all looks very - promising, Snape. I shall remain here to watch the conclusion to a story which should have been ended long, long ago..."

Sirius, Harry thought wildly. Sirius wasn't very far away, he was in that castle, how could Harry let him know that he was in such trouble...? Sirius would come if he knew...

Snape had turned slowly back towards Harry and was raising his wand. A fierce light burned in his eyes. For a moment they stared at each directly, face to face. Snape was very pale; sweat gleamed on his cheeks and forehead. His hair hung, as ever, in greasy curtains. He looked, pretty much, just like he did in Potions classes at Hogwarts...Surely, surely, this could not be happening...Dumbledore wouldn't allow this to happen - But you left the school, a small inner voice reminded Harry. Dumbledore was protecting you, and yet again you just sneaked off around his defences. See what has come of it...

"Snape," Harry stammered, without conscious thought. "Professor Snape - don't - "

"Why ever not, Potter? Surely you know I have been awaiting this moment for quite some time."

"But Dumbledore," Harry gasped out desperately. His body would have been shaking violently if not for the bindweed trussing him to the tree. "He trusts you!"

"So he does." Snape smiled without mirth. "The Muggle-loving old fool."

"That woman - man - at the shore, said that you can't!" Harry was babbling now, and despised himself for it. "If you kill in this realm, she said - she said your fate will be beyond the writing of the gods!"

"Oh? I expect she forgot to mention that this is only the case if what you kill is from this realm. Which, you, Potter, are not...You see, Potter, you seem to have forgotten that this day was inevitable from the start. You cannot win. Do you not remember Bellatrix Lestrange telling you this in the Ministry of Magic? Do you not recall what Bellatrix said?"

Harry had run out of anything to say which might conceivably persuade Snape to change his mind. He thought of Sirius, of Ron, of Hermione, with acute sadness. He remembered what Voldemort had said to him when he was fourteen: "And now you face me, like a man ... straight-backed and proud, the way your father died."

So I will, he thought fiercely. So I will. He set his jaw and stared Snape defiantly in the face. Despite himself, a single tear tracked soundlessly down his pale cheeks. His eyes were enormous. He swallowed, and waited for the bolt he knew would shortly strike him. He was vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione screaming in helpless protest.

Snape looked at Harry for a long, long moment. His eyes glinted: black and crystalline as fractured obsidian. He flicked a glance over his shoulder to where Voldemort watched and waited, a gloating smile playing around his lipless mouth.

Then, Snape uttered a harsh snarl, and pointed his wand.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry's body slammed back against the tree to which he was bound. Green lightning flared. Harry's body went first rigid, then crumpled, then fall forward limply in its bonds.

The sun was not yet setting. A single Bane Bird, however, was already circling down. It perched expectantly on Harry's lolling head.

"Kaaa - kaaa - kaaa."

For that singular instant, that frozen moment, the Bane Bird's plaint of death was the only sound in the valley: as the daylight sun bled over the rim of the enfolding hills, and shadows rose to drown them.

"Kaaa - kaaa - kaaa."

Chapter Eight: Secrets and Lies

"HARRRRYYYYYYY....!" Ron's anguished wail rent the air.

This, Hermione thought distantly, is what it feels like if someone takes a meat-hook and wrenches the insides out of your body. This, she thought, is what happens when the fundamental bindings of the universe unravel, and everything begins to fall apart. This is how Harry felt when Sirius died; how he has been feeling ever since. And now --

Her shriek of utter fury succeeded in making Snape turn his head. His expression was so blank and mask-like he looked almost bored. But he was livid white, and sweat was pouring down his face.

Like tears, Hermione thought feverishly. Sweat is pouring down Snape's face like tears...

"You..you -" she could not push the words out from behind her grief and loathing.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged her distantly. Then, turning and kneeling, and with profound reverence: "My lord."

"You have done well," hissed Voldemort's shade. "I am pleased."

"I live but to serve my master," whispered Snape.

"These," said Voldemort, waving a hand at Hermione and the sobbing Ron. "Despatch them."

"Yes, my lord, I thought, my lord, it would be more fitting if I simply took back the potions which enable them to return, and left them here - helpless and bound, as you see, while the Bane Birds..." Snape cast an eloquent glance upwards at the circling predators with their beaks of bone.

Voldemort's gash of a mouth stretched into what might have been a smile. "As you wish. Now, I tire... I must sleep soon... Walk with me a little way, Snape, and we can discuss our future plans before I depart."

Snape inclined his head deeply and rose to his feet. He walked out of the clearing, pace for pace with the shade of Voldemort.

"Kaaaa - aaaa - aaaa."

Sunset soon, Hermione thought hopelessly. If only Sirius would come. But even anxiety about her own and Ron's situation was smothered beneath her all-encompassing grief.

For it to end thus. Harry: the Boy Who Died; and at the hands of Snape, whom the Order trusted.

"Kaaaa - aaaa - aaaa."

Hermione wished she was close enough to Harry to swat that damned bird away. Its jagged beak was hovering just above Harry's closed eyes.

Which opened.

Hermione screwed up her eyes, and looked again.

"H...H...Harry?" It's the Land of the Living Dead, she thought frantically. Maybe he's come back. But no, surely that was not possible, not possible...

Harry blinked at her and managed to shape his mouth into a smile.

"I feel as though I've been kicked by a mule," Harry whispered hoarsely. "But I'm alive. Ron, Hermione, really. I'm alive."

Harry's voice had penetrated the wall of grief surrounding Ron. He, too, gaped at Harry, his jaw dropping, a disbelieving smile spreading across his face. Tears and mucous still dripped down his nose and cheeks.

"Maybe," he said in awe, sniffing heavily, "maybe that curse just doesn't work against you, Harry! I mean, that's the second time!"

Harry grinned.

"Yeah, right.."

"Or maybe," Snape cut across them softly, "you just don't listen, Potter."

Harry, Hermione and Ron all stiffened and turned their heads in the direction of his voice. Snape had approached on cat-like feet; he was standing just a few yards away, implacable in black, with his arms folded across his chest.

"No!" Hermione whispered, her eyes dilating.

"I told you, Potter," continued Snape, "to recall what Bellatrix Lestrange had said to you in the Ministry of Magic. Tell me, Potter. What did she say?" He was strolling towards Harry as he spoke.

"She said - well, she said I couldn't win against her," Harry said flatly, gazing at Snape in bemusement. Snape had taken from his pocket what looked like a pen-knife. He eyed the blade with some trepidation. He was not sure he liked having Snape so close to his throat with a knife. "She, er, she said I could never hope to compete."

"And what about the Unforgivable Curses, Potter?" Snape asked. He was sawing through the bindweed. The sun was beginning to lower yet further in the sky. More Bane Birds began to circle down towards them. The one hovering above Harry's head clacked its beak expectantly.

Snape muttered crossly, and dug in his pocket. "NUTRIRENS!" he shouted, casting bread as far away from them as possible. Hermione and Ron were watching him suspiciously. They were not convinced this was not just some other ploy.

"The Unforgivable Curses, Potter. What did she tell you about them?"

"She said," Harry's voice slowed. "She said 'You need to mean them'. She said you cannot cast an Unforgivable Curse properly unless you really want to hurt the person." Harry looked down. Snape was sawing at the bindweed around his legs. "You didn't, did you? That's why I'm alive..."

"Then why the bloody hell," Ron half-shouted through his blocked nose, "did you put us through all this?"

Harry, freed of his bonds, sat down with his back against the tree. His legs didn't feel quite ready to hold him up yet. Snape released Ron, dug in his pocket, and passed him a large handkerchief.

"Here you are, Mr Weasley. And before you ask, treat it as a gift. I do not want it back."

Snape paused.

"Consider. Dumbledore had sent me here to protect you. Once I was here, Voldemort summoned me to tell me to kill you. And he was going to stand at my shoulder, watching to make sure I fulfilled his...demands. You are very vulnerable in this land, Harry... By the time the Dark Lord realizes that you are not in fact dead, you will, I trust be safely back at Hogwarts."

"Oh," Harry said blankly. "Er, Professor Snape - I'm sorry I thought you were, well, trying to murder me."

"I was working very hard to give the Dark Lord that impression. If I were not even capable of fooling you, Potter, I would have remarkably little chance of ever fooling Lord Voldemort. However.." Snape stopped sawing at Hermione's ropes for a moment and stared out into the approaching night, his hair shrouding his face. "I would like you to be aware, Potter, that I did not actually - enjoy - the experience."

"Yeah well, you fooled us all right!" said Ron grumpily. His voice still shook somewhat. "It was that whole death curse thing that did it! Well convincing, that was!"

Snape drew out his bottle of water and took a long swig. Three pairs of eyes followed it longingly.

"You mean - Oh, tell me you did at least bring water!"

With resignation, he handed the flask over to Harry, who took a careful swig.

"It's charmed to AutoRefresh, Potter. You may all drink freely." Snape watched them sardonically. "And now, finally, we can find our way back to Hogwarts. I shall rarely have been so glad to return to its confines."

Harry stared at him. "But, Sirius: we haven't got him yet!"

Snape raised his eyebrows and looked down his nose at them.

"We need three things though," Hermione chipped in, fixing Snape with a look Harry could not quite interpret. "We need a spoonful of grain, a hank of raw wool, and a handful of salt."

"And we don't know how to get them, since anything we took we would have to pay for..."

"Your point?" Snape addressed himself to Hermione.

"I think you could get those for us." She had a most determined look on her face.

"And why on earth, Miss Granger, do you think I would do this? You may have noticed that I have just gone to really quite some trouble to release you from the attentions of the Dark Lord. Do you suppose I wish to waste all that effort, and return and tell Professor Dumbledore that I then went and mislaid you in the Palace of Bones?"

" 'Why on earth?' Because we are not on earth." Hermione stated. "This is the Land of Mag Mell. And you owe us."

"I beg your pardon!" Snape grated.

"Yeah, too right!" Ron suddenly caught up with where Hermione was going with this. "We've had serious grief here! Not to mention you made Harry think he was about to die. You owe us."

Snape scrutinized them with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he let out a vexed sigh.

"If you insist," he said finally, "who am I to stand between you and your own destruction?"

He reached into his pockets. "Grain. Wool. Salt. Such," he said ironically, "are among those items the well-equipped traveller to the Underworld never goes without. Not that you need to know this, Potter. Because you will never be coming back here. Or at least not until long after you have graduated and ceased to be in any way my responsibility. Is that understood?"

Harry's face wore an expression of gathering hope. "You mean - you have the stuff? And you'll let us do it?"

Snape rolled his eyes upwards. "That is what I have just said, Potter. However, you must be quick, and you must be careful. It would not be ....advisable for us to be here when the Dark Lord re-awakes his shade."

Harry beamed. It was worth nearly dying (again) to have another shot at getting Sirius back.

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