Psychopomp

Harry sat down at the seat he had vacated and looked expectantly at Snape and Malfoy. "Ask your questions then, boy," Snape snarled.

"You never did like questions, did you Snape? It's a wonder no one in my year flunked your class."

"Considering what became of Granger, it's no wonder I never called on the little brat." Harry glared back at the man, not liking the reminder.

"Ask your questions, Potter," Malfoy broke in. "I don't fancy listen to the two of you bicker. We have more important things to do with our time."

Harry shot him an amused glance as he tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "A Malfoy peacekeeper. Now I've truly seen everything." Malfoy snorted. "I'm going to get a drink, and then I'll ask," he finally said, stalling. There were more two questions he wanted answers to burning in his brain, and the trick would be couching his request so that he received multiple answers to one question. Harry had learned quite a bit over the years, but that particular talent was one he had never quite picked up from Snape. He stood, and walked into the kitchen with his half-empty glass of scotch. Pouring slowly, Harry considered his multiple questions.

How could he still do magic? Why were some of his talents, such as his Parseltongue ability, still active, while the wand magic was tightly bound and could only be preformed in the presence of Snape and Malfoy?

And thinking of Snape and Malfoy, why were they here? What was their agenda with this, and what did they have to do with the Dark Mark? What did they need him for?

Harry sighed, and realized that his glass was overflowing. "Waste of good scotch," he muttered, cleaning it up with a towel. He sighed, and walked back into the dining room. Snape and Malfoy were waiting for him, sitting in the chairs Sirius and Remus had occupied. Snape seemed to be drinking out of Remus' untouched water glass. "All right. Questions, then?" He sat down. "Why am I only able to do wand-based magic in your presence?"

Snape gave him a sharp look. Harry's talent with wandless magic beyond the normal affinities, such as the sheer ability to see into the Wizarding World, was a closely guarded secret. The only people who knew about it, other than Dumbledore, were dead. All but Snape had been victims of that very same talent. "As we told you, boy, it's part of who you are."

"Not much of an answer, Snape. Care to elaborate?"

Snape glared. "Are you familiar with the idea of a psychopomp?"

Harry frowned, thinking, before he shook his head. "It sounds familiar, but I can't place it."

"A psychopomp," Malfoy picked up the tale, "is a guide of sorts."

"'Of sorts'?"

"A psychopomp is a guide to souls, most typically the souls of the dead."

Harry snorted. "Well, that explains why you two have been hanging around." He took a drink. "What's the difference between a psychopomp and a necromancer?"

"A necromancer doesn't simply guide the souls of the dead," Snape answered, "A necromancer has the power to completely control them. A psychopomp is simply a guide, there's no control involved. Persuasion or intimidation, perhaps, but no control. The souls follow of their own accord."

"And what does this have to do with the recent activity associated with Death Eaters?"

Snape and Malfoy shared a look at that question. Harry thought he saw a line of worry appear on Snape's forehead. "Unfortunately Harry," Malfoy answered smoothly, "You've had your two questions."

"No, I haven't," Harry replied, angered.

Snape held up his thumb. "First question: 'why am I only able to do wand-based magic in your presence.'" He raised his index finger. "Second question: 'what's the difference between a psychopomp and a necromancer.' I'd say that was two." Harry glared and polished off his drink. "Now it's your turn to fulfill your end of the bargain."

"Right," Harry glowered. "Should I bring anything with me?"

Snape looked him up and down, sneering. "Just a change of clothing, unless you fancy wearing that for several days in succession."

"Get rid of the wand, if you can," Malfoy put in. "You won't need it, for the most part, and it's too incriminating. Your friend has probably already reported it's loss. And when you come up missing when they check, it's best not to have it with you to further culpability."

"Figures that you'd know all about dodging the Ministry, Malfoy," Harry said, but he took the advice to heart. "How will we be getting there?"

"We'll Floo to Malfoy Manor," Snape replied.

Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised by the answer. "But we're not hooked into the Floo network around here, except for Hogwarts and Godric's Hollow."

Snape waved a hand dismissively. "As long as you're with us, you can go anywhere you want. You just have to know your destination, and imagine yourself there."

Harry shot him a look. "Sounds fairly simple, what's the trick?"

"No trick." Harry nodded slowly, still not believing the answer. But at least this way he had a decent way of getting rid of the wand. Dropping it while Flooing would mean Oliver's wand would be untraceable, and nearly irretrievable.

"All right, give me ten minutes to pack. Do I need provisions?" Harry almost started at the word. It was war-speak, something he hadn't had to use since school, since Voldemort. It was funny how quickly his mindset had shifted.

Snape shook his head, noticing the change, and from the smug expression that Harry ached to wipe off Snape's face with his fist, he approved as well. "Provisions are not needed, just pack clothes." Harry nodded, showing that he understood, and headed toward his closet.

He pulled out the same box that had held his .45, and grabbed the travel pack Sirius had given him when before he went on his first mission. Eying the box, Harry considered going armed. He grabbed several boxes of bullets, shoved them into the bottom of the pack, and pulled out his holster. He fastened it around his waist, and then rearranged his shirt so that the gun wouldn't be showing. Next came the spring-loaded arm holster, which he attached to his left arm, before loading it with the knife that had been Remus' present before his first mission. Satisfied, Harry returned to the sitting room, to collect the gun he had left there the night before. Snape had probably been rather disappointed by the way he treated his weapons, but when had Harry ever cared what Snape thought? Once the gun was holstered, Harry headed towards his bedroom. He packed older clothes, comfortable but flexible.

Once packed, he returned to the sitting room where Malfoy and Snape were waiting. He studied them intently. Both seemed poised and relaxed, no twitching hands, no signs of impatience or hesitation.

Of course, as Snape himself would be the first to say, both were accomplished liars.

Harry had learned the meaning of the phrase "don't judge a book by its cover" the hard way. Granger would have found a great irony in that.

"Ready?" Malfoy turned around and asked.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked again. "I mean, you both have been dead for a rather long time. They've stripped the Manor down to skin and bones, you know, and it is constantly watched. I don't trust this new ability to use magic, however you explain it, at least not enough to think I can escape notice there."

Snape snorted. "You were always too forthright for your own good, Potter. You give away far more information than you take in." He walked over and poked Harry in the chest. "Didn't you learn anything from me?"

It was Harry's turn to snort. "Obviously not, seeing as I ended up here. With you two haunting me."

"And even worse, Harry," Malfoy put in, "you're trusting us." Harry grimaced, but had to admit that Malfoy had a point. "You'll have to do the honors, Severus, I'm needed to guide until we get there."

"The honors?" Harry asked suspiciously. He knew the Floo sounded too easy.

Snape grinned. It was not a nice expression. In fact, Harry thought he remembered seeing that expression quite often on Snape's face as he cursed and hexed former companions. Harry backed away from the taller man. "Oh, don't worry Potter, it won't hurt. Much. Just gather your Gryffindor courage and be still."

Harry stepped back again and reached into his pocket for the stolen wand. He pointed it at the two ghosts. "Much, eh?" Snape and Malfoy exchanged a look. "Elaboration just isn't your strong point, is it?"

"We have to enter you in order for you to both access the Floo system and enter Malfoy Manor," Malfoy said quietly.

Harry stared. "...'Enter me'? As in, possession?" Snape and Malfoy nodded in unison. "No. You can just fuck off, there's no way I'm letting either of you into my body."

Snape sneered. "Certainly have changed your tune from when I was alive, haven't you, Potter?"

Harry glared at the reminder of the past. "That was a long time ago, Snape, and I doubt you want to remember it any more than I do."

Malfoy snorted inelegantly. "My, my, Severus. Your taste in lovers certainly hasn't improved over the years." He seemed amused by the entire situation.

"Oh for -" Harry rolled his eyes. "I for one do not want to get into this discussion. So, why don't I just banish you," he hefted the wand thoughtfully, "once and for all?"

"Three reasons," Malfoy answered smugly. "First, you made a deal. Second, I highly doubt you remember the banishing charms necessary. Third, it doesn't work that way. We come and go as we please."

Harry felt his lips peel back in a snarl as he considered the blonde's words. He pocketed the wand. "Tell me."

Snape and Malfoy shared another look. Harry was beginning to get quite tired of that, and walked towards Harry. "Severus to Floo and me to enter Malfoy Manor." Malfoy reached out his hand, and this time, instead of touching Harry, his hand moved through his body. Malfoy left a cold trail in the center of Harry's chest, and he gasped silently.

"Is that what you meant?" Harry found himself asking weakly. Malfoy smiled coldly and nodded. He sighed. "Fine, let's get this over with, so I can say no, and come home."

Snape laughed. He leaned close to Harry's ear, and Harry could feel the warm breath on his ear. "Keep telling yourself that, Potter." With that he stepped fully into Harry's body.

The sensation was intense. Harry supposed it felt a little bit like freezing, a little bit like burning, a little bit like being under Imperius, and a little bit like sloppy sex. He could feel Snape moving around in him, the sensation of something under his skin that just didn't fit comfortably or correctly. He shuddered. "Stop fighting me, Potter," he felt, more than heard, Snape say.

"Easy for you to say," Harry snapped back. With the familiar return of the bickering he sometimes, late at night, when insomnia and nightmares struck, found himself missing, the uncomfortable feeling of invasion stopped.

"Much better, Potter. I always knew you could take an order."

Harry snorted. "So, does this mean Malfoy has to do this too?"

Malfoy walked over and smiled. He reached out and gently ran his index finger over Harry's scar. "Yes." The finger trailed down over Harry's nose. "And since we don't have the past associations that you and Severus do," the finger gently swept over his lips, "it will be much more painful." He pushed his hand through Harry's mouth, into his head and all Harry knew was pain.

If he thought Snape had been an invasion, it was nothing to this. His nerve endings were flaming, he skin was freezing, and Harry dimly felt himself start to cough and vaguely wondered if he was coughing blood. Harry had been through Cruciatus more than any human ever had the right to, and it was nothing compared to this. The only thing he could compare the sensation to was death. "You know nothing about real death, boy, you're just picking up my memories," Snape's voice over rode the pain, distracting him. "Real death is not peaceful. It's not painless. It's not a long rest after a particularly trying day." Harry twitched and concentrated on the deep and soothing voice in his head. "It's an end. And if you're lucky enough, a beginning."

Harry gasped, and found himself on the floor. Snape's words seemed to have acted as a trigger and the pain stopped. He was unsurprised to see a small spot of blood on his shirt. He had been coughing up blood then. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and felt Snape's disgust and Malfoy's amusement at the action. Harry felt the blood roar in his ears and he passed out from the effects of the pain.

"Bring me Pettigrew," the Dark Lord commanded harshly. He was always on edge before the Death Eaters began a raid.

Lucius bowed, "Right away, my lord," and walked out. He snarled as soon as left the room. It irritated him to be sent away like a common servant in order to fetch that sniveling Gryffindor. Even if that simpering fool was the key into Dumbledore's inner circle.

But still, to be ordered around in his own Manor! It was insufferable. Nott, who was standing in the library Lucius had stalked into, took one look at his expression and winced. "Lucius?"

"Get Pettigrew," Lucius spat between his teeth. Nott, never the most powerful of Death Eaters, hastened to obey. Lucius quite liked showing off his dueling skills. He briefly wondered if he'd have a chance to see Narcissa and Draco before leaving on the raid. "Provided Pettigrew has the information he promised," Lucius whispered.

"Talking to yourself? Now I know I've seen everything." Lucius turned at the sound of Severus Snape's voice.

"Ah, Severus, how good of you to join us," he sneered. Severus shrugged and silently tapped his Dark Mark. He was leaning against the doorframe inelegantly. He looked rather haggard; there were dark circles under his eyes, and Lucius could spot several stains on his black robes. "What rampaging beast attacked you?"

"The Dark Lord commissioned a potion. Nearly two days straight brewing time, plus the three days I spent harvesting ingredients."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "So that's where you were when we dropped in on the Longbottoms?"

Severus scowled. "I told the Dark Lord he could either have my presence at what would be a routine raid, or he could have his potion on time."

Lucius laughed. "Only you, my friend, only you."

"Do you know whom we're taking tonight?" he asked, rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"We have a traitor, Severus," Lucius replied, smiling. "We're taking the Potters."

Severus froze. "I thought they were under the Fidelius Charm?"

"Ah, but we have their Secret-Keeper." Lucius turned to a glass case and pulled out an old bottle of wine. "Would you care to share a glass with me?"

Harry jolted awake out of the dream? Memory? He hadn't moved from the floor, and Snape and Malfoy were nowhere in sight. He assumed they were still in his head, which was pounding. He raised his wand and cast a quick pain-killing charm he had learned from Snape. Useful after Cruciatus. "This better be worth it," he muttered to his two passengers, who stayed thankfully silent.

Harry reached out and grabbed the small vial of Floo Powder on the fireplace mantle. He pointed Oliver's wand at the fire and lit it. He threw the Powder into the fire and watched it burn. "Malfoy Manor, the study, honneur et famille," Harry slowly enunciated the specific location and the unbreakable password - "honor and family" - to Malfoy's private study. He stepped into the fire, noting that it was an entirely odd experience to hear someone else's voice coming out of his mouth.

Harry closed his eyes against the whirling and made sure to drop Oliver's wand. The fire spit him out and Harry stumbled, finding himself on the floor for the second time that day. He gingerly opened his eyes and looked around.

The room Malfoy had directed him to was small, about the size of the Hogwarts' offices. The walls were lined with full bookshelves, old and worn books. From the few titles Harry could glimpse off of the floor, this is where Malfoy's stash of Dark Arts materials had stayed, escaping the Ministry's notice. There was a wood desk in the center of the room, a deep mahogany. There were scratches and burn marks on the legs, Harry wondered if Malfoy had practiced on it. He groaned and slowly picked himself off the floor.

"Welcome to the Snake Pit," a new voice said. Harry quickly looked to the chair that matched the desk.

A tall boy, around seventeen, with black hair was sitting in it, twirling a wand. A wand Harry knew almost as well as his own. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. It pulsed, and Harry suddenly remembered the first time he had ever seen Fawkes; it had been the Phoenix's Burning Day. The boy was dressed in a green and silver Hogwarts uniform, plain black robes with a Head Boy badge pinned to them. "Oh fuck," Harry swore.

"Why Harry! One would think you're not happy to see me!" Tom Riddle smiled.