Reconstruction of a Death Eater

Remus woke up naked and alone, shivering and dizzy, a stone urn behind his head. He remembered going to bite Nagini as she lay crushing Severus but then... everything was blank. He managed to sit up on the second try and saw the huge snake only feet from his side, dead of course, but her coils were empty! Where was Severus? Remus was very sure that he wouldn't have gone away and left him lying there, not these days. And Peter's body was only a few feet further on, one arm torn off and his throat torn out. The wolf in Remus rejoiced in the hot rush of blood, revelled in the killing it had done the day before. Even though Remus could not join in the celebration of death, he realised it was war and there had been nothing else he could do but destroy his enemies. He refused to feel guilty about the battle and the casualties and the blood.

Staggering to his feet, Remus shivered and began the trek back to the school, making note of where the black clad bodies were and where the red clad bodies lay. Others moved on the field, some as naked as he, others clothed in various robes, but none were Death Eater black and Remus didn't think he had to fear. Someone gave a shout and Remus nearly levitated when he was grabbed from behind and squeezed tightly. A swirl of cloth attacked him and he suddenly realised he was being wrapped in a warm school robe. Turning as fast as his whirling head would allow him, he saw Crabbe, Draco's loyal lieutenant grinning at him, a slightly blushing Lavender Brown behind him and Remus blushed too.

"Glad we found you, Professor," Lavender said once he was decent. "We've been delivering clothing to the werewolves who are coming out of it now. Have you seen Professor Snape? We can't find hide nor hair of him and Professor Dumbledore was worried."

"No, I haven't. He was over there but now he is gone and I couldn't even get a scent from the resting place, senses are all confused."

"There's blood on your head and I don't think it's from transformation," Crabbe remarked, lending an arm as the slight professor staggered. "Come on, let's get you back to the infirmary. Hey, Lavender, watch our back, will you, Honey?"

Lavender blushed in pleasure and drew her wand most professionally as they hurried back to the castle.

~~*~~

Hermione lay in a coma, Draco hovering over her in fearful hope as soon as he had escaped from St Mungo's. His own concussion had only taken a few hours to heal, but getting away from the healers had taken longer. It was a toss-up whether the healers of St Mungo's or the Auror guards of Azkaban were the most effective at keeping a prisoner incommunicado. He periodically glanced down at the black tattoo on his left arm, not gone, but faded and old looking and no longer a sinister reminder of folly. In a way he was very grateful to Pansy for her attack on Hermione, who was almost guaranteed to recover, according to Madam Pomfrey. Her wounds had kept her out of the main battle and thus safe from harm. A fierce fighter and a staunch ally, he feared that Hermione was not a killer and that, if she had had to kill someone it would affect her for the rest of her life. This way she could be happy for her contribution without feeling guilty for not fighting in the thick of battle. It was a very good, very Slytherin solution as far as he was concerned, a win-win situation. He smiled gently as he replaced a stray curl behind her ear, again.

In the next bed over Harry Potter lay equally unmoving, Ginny Weasley holding his hand and talking quietly to him while a tattered roster of injured Aurors stood guard over the Hogwarts infirmary to keep the press and the grateful public out. When Tom Riddle exploded, they feared Harry would die too, but he had lived and didn't seem to have sustained very much damage. His very famous scar had turned old and silvery, an obscure looking relic of an old accident. Until he woke up and was able to answer questions, all the healers could do was feed him fortifying potions to stave off shock and magical exhaustion. After all, he had just defeated the greatest Dark Lord of their times.

An equal number of guards hovered over Ron Weasley who lay in St Mungo's with an amputated leg and hand, even though he was conscious. Draco had left him in a haze of potions induced sleepiness but still able to comprehend that he had lost his leg and his fingers. Even wizards could not regrow limbs like some sort of frog or lizard. Once they parted company they were severed forever. The St Mungo's staff were going to have a very hard time trying to convince the active and athletic Weasley that life was really worth living even if he couldn't play his beloved Quidditch or run about or, most likely, pursue a career as an Auror as he and Harry had planned to once they left school.

Word of the victory had spread like wildfire, Voldemort was dead, blasted to smithereens by Harry Potter, as promised, and the wizarding world was again free for wizards and witches to live their little lives in peace. All the Death Eaters were dead and gone, killed on the battlefields of Hogwarts by the Aurors and the centaurs who had annihilated the survivors most ruthlessly. That had come as something of a surprise: the centaurs' ruthless destruction of anyone wearing a tattoo. Malfoy wondered how he had been spared the purge. It was only later that he learned that his Order tattoo had grown brighter and more visible in direct proportion to the dimming and fading of the Mors Mordre - an interesting development.

Only a few bewildered fringe groupies still sported the Dark Mark, but most of them had fled or were using heavy concealment charms until they could have it removed. There was a rumour that Muggle tattoo parlours were doing a bit of business in the alterations department. The Aurors knew that but they felt they had managed to remove the fanatical core element and the rest who had not fought would be wanna-be hangers-on and tactically useless to anyone even thinking of reviving the movement. Three were definitely no rallying points and therefore the Death Eaters were seen to be defanged.

The roll of the dead was horrendous, name upon name printed in the Daily Prophet, whole families wiped out to the last adult, children left bewildered and orphaned with nowhere to go. The Ministry had no idea of how to cope, but there was a groundswell suggesting that the confiscated Death Eater assets should be used to set up war orphanages to cater to the children. It was a good idea and since a lot of Malfoy money was rumoured to be coming up, quite a few Ministry officials had put their weight behind the scheme and volunteered for service. However, Minister Constantine Clearwater was nobody's fool and had a firm hand on that rein. Any Death Eater assets would be frozen by Gringotts until the guilt or innocence of the accused could be proven in a real court of law, not the jumped-up kangaroo courts that had prevailed in Fudge's times . Significant and tangible evidence would have to be provided by the prosecutor, and rumour and innuendo were inadmissible in a court of law.

Any orphanages or charities that were set up would be overseen by a board of Governors similar to the school board, and all spending would have to be approved by the committee that would be announced at a later date. In the meantime, temporary accommodation would be provided by the Ministry at the Royal College of Herbology as an interim measure. They had enough dormitories and kitchen facilities to cater to a small army.

At Hogwarts a bewildered group of children had been found locked in a classroom, one or two of the older ones Marked. There had been calls to prosecute them to the full extent of the law, but Headmaster Dumbledore had quashed that idea immediately. No one was making scapegoats of his children, not even a vengeful public. He had said so in an emotion laden speech that had been broadcast over the WWW to every home in Britain and most of the other continents had tuned in too. He had reminded the world of the aftermath of Grindelwald; how dissatisfaction and a lust for revenge had caused many an innocent family to be targeted unnecessarily. How unfair and crippling 'reparations' had caused resentment and had eventually contributed to the creation of the situation they had just passed through. How the righteous indignation of the Light fighters had been taken to an excess that allowed even greater atrocities to be committed in the name of Good than the followers of Grindelwald had committed in the name of Evil. Balance was the key to his speech, balance in all things, including attitude, magic and thought.

There was talk of medals and of ceremonies, but those they most wanted to honour were in no condition to leave their healers, or were not even conscious to realise they had triumphed over all. The loss of so many Aurors had created problems in the policing of the wizarding world, but everything was surprisingly quiet as if even the criminal element had taken a holiday for once. The loss of Chief Auror Scrimgeour had been a painful one and most of the senior staff had gone too. A few wanted Kingsley Shacklebolt as Chief Auror, but the Wizengamot ruled him too young in their infinite wisdom and so an unusual solution was found. As an emergency measure, Hestia Jones was appointed as co-chief along with Alastor Moody. Hestia was crippled but her mind was pinpoint clear. Alastor was mobile and could act as her corporeal presence, but no one trusted him to run the Aurory on his own, he was too harsh.

~~*~~

Severus was conscious of the darkness and the dank bedding under his cheek as he swam into consciousness. He also felt the cold creeping into his bones and mind. What the hell had happened? Nagini had rolled him up in her coils, but Pettigrew, the sneaky, filthy rat had come to hex him. Then Remus had come along and used his jaws to kill Nagini. How could he ever have thought Remus was.... The pleasant thought was snatched away, replaced by the old vision of teeth and claws and snarling jaws, a frission of terror crawling down his spine.

Rolling onto his back, Severus surveyed his surroundings and bit his lip to stop a squeak of terror breaking out. Where the hell was he? Who had betrayed him? Scrimgeour, that bastard, he had put a Portkey on him before he could get out of Nagini's grip, which logically meant... Azkaban! He shivered. Headmaster Dumbledore would soon come and get him out of here. The comforting thought was ripped away and replaced by demands to kill the headmaster, horror invading his soul. Or Remus would come and get him out, come searching for him... the comfort of Remus' warm nature was instantly replaced by a cold certainty that love was merely an illusion, remember Tom?

"What's happening to me?" he murmured aloud, patting down his pockets and totally amazed to find his wand still in its sheath on his arm. Drawing the slim rod, he cast Lumos and drew back against the wall when he realised he was surrounded by Dementors, more pushing into the small, damp cell by the minute. Cold, grave-like fingers of thought began to invade his soul and mind, scrabbling through his memories, seeking out the warmth and joy, what precious little there was.

Desperately, Severus tried to cast his Patronus, but his one small kernel of joy was gleefully eaten up in an instant. Horrified, Snape cast his strongest Occlumentic wall, forcing the ghostly tendrils from his mind. A mad sweep of his own memories gathered up all his precious moments and bundled them roughly into a holding ball. Even as he cast the password on the ball, the occlumency wall was broken and the Dementors snatched at the last remnant, stealing away the words and the feelings that made Severus, leaving ... Snape.

~~*~~

Hermione woke to the gentle murmur of voices, a deeper one chatting to a small, high pitched one that answered in noises and giggles. She smiled and opened her eyes to watch her husband and son sharing what looked like a bowl of stewed apple. Both wore a fair layer of the glop, and she had to laugh as another spoonful landed in the perfect Malfoy coif which was already liberally plastered. Two pairs of bright grey eyes flew to her face, cries of 'Mama' and 'Wild Hair' gasped out as she was grabbed and hugged within an inch of her life.

"Oh, Merlin, you're awake at last! Oh, Sweetheart, you have no idea..."

"Hey now, are those tears? Draco, honey, please, I'm fine," she replied but didn't try to push either of her menfolk away. Over his shoulder she caught Ginny's eye and smiled tentatively as the younger girl nodded in quiet satisfaction but did not intrude.

There was a rustle of starched cloth and a stranger hurried down the row of beds to cluck and fuss, pulling the man and child aside to check Hermione's vitals and complain about the glops of stewed apple on her nice clean bed and patient. Draco laughed and shook his head, vanishing them instantly, too happy to take offence at the fussy woman's complaining. He mouthed 'I love you' over her shoulder, not caring if anyone saw it or how it looked, he was just so happy to have his wife back and conscious again.

The excited squeals of a small child penetrated the deep sleep Harry was enjoying, dream free for the first time in years. He yawned and stretched and opened his eyes to blink heavily when nothing happened.

"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed in shock, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

Hands grabbed his wrists and he tossed them away fearfully, hearing a body thump off the other wall. A wordless spell had his wand in his hand, but it didn't feel like his wand and he still couldn't see! Panicked, he surged to his feet, feeling things moving away from him but unable to judge the results of his strongly cast protego. Finally a very familiar and bossy voice began to penetrate his sheer blue funk, and he cocked his head listening to it.

"Hermione? Is that you? Are you alright? What the hell is going on?"

"You mean apart from Cyclone Harry destroying the Infirmary?" she demanded tartly and he could just imagine her standing there with her hands on her hips, elbows akimbo as usual.

"Sorry," he apologised sheepishly and started as hands caught his waist.

"No! It's just Ginny, she's going to help you sit down and stop flashing your bare bum to the world, Harry Potter."

Embarrassment made him go bright red as he slumped down on what he realised was a hospital bed, the horrible hospital gown pulled tight around his dignity. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly and as engulfed in a vast, warm hug, Ginny's tears soaking his shoulder and Hermione's carefully worded explanations filling him in before other strangers could get near him. He did not realise that the protego he had cast had completely shrouded their small section of the ward and that a number of people were hammering on the rock hard shield in an attempt to get near them.

Draco merely watched with an amused smirk while his wife and Harry's girlfriend brought him up to speed. It seemed that Harry Potter had grown even more powerful than anyone ever expected, which, Draco's Slytherin brain quickly concluded, might be an issue if the Chosen One wasn't careful. They would have to have a very private meeting on the nature of control and good working relations before the day was much older, he decided.

Before Draco could make any further plans, Professor Dumbledore swept in and took the situation in at a glance. He pressed on the wards and was allowed to enter the privacy bubble much to the consternation of the rest of the crowd, nodding to Draco who grinned back cheerfully. So that was how it was to be played, was it, a purpose-build safety precaution for the protection of the Golden Boy while he was incapacitated. Bravo, Dumbledore. Perhaps playing with Gryffs would not be as boring as he feared.

~~*~~

Remus was beside himself with terror. He could not find Severus anywhere, no trace of him, no body, no magical signature, nothing. When he went to the Aurory he was virtually thrown out on his ear, a bloody werewolf trying to enter the Ministry was still not on. Anywhere and everywhere he went, he was met with all the usual, hurtful opposition to his curse. It was as if werewolves had never fought in the Battle for Hogwarts, as if they had never contributed to the welfare of the state at all. Even creeping into St Mungo's to see Ron became a hazardous enterprise. A medi-witch had screamed, and a full security detail had driven him out of the building all together. All his old insecurities came flooding back, destroying the confidence he had built as a war leader and a defender of the Light, leaving the old Lupin in place, self-effacing and nervously hiding in the shadows once again.

When he went up to Hogwarts to see Harry and Hermione, it was completely different, the pair welcoming him with open arms and cries of delight. Molly and Poppy fussed over him, but he could not settle until he had informed them of Severus' disappearance. Everyone, including Professor Dumbledore, tried to locate the Potions Master but to no avail. Draco frowned deeply when he emerged from the hospital wing, casting a rather Dark tracking spell but he could find no trace of his Godfather either.

"It's as if he never existed at all," Molly said softly, staring at her fellow Order Members in baffled silence.

"Of course he existed," Remus snapped. "None of the other Death Eaters disappeared, their bodies or their persons were retrieved so I don't think he was vaporised with Riddle. There has to be a rational explanation for all of this and we will find him."

"Of course we will, dear, now I suggest you get some sleep, Remus, you look like you haven't slept in a week," Poppy advised, drawing him over to a bed in the corner.

"I haven't," Remus confessed. "It's been a week since the battle and I just can't rest, I have to find Severus, I have to."

"I'll ask Professor Dumbledore to see what he can do," Harry said firmly, blind eyeballs making it very hard to meet his gaze for most people. "There is supposed to be some sort of medal presentation tomorrow at the Ministry. If they can't produce Professor Snape, how about we don't show up? It would be just like the bloody Ministry to toss him in Azkaban and never tell anyone, just conveniently sweep him under the carpet and forget he was instrumental in their liberation from that madman."

It was fortunate that Harry's blindness made him unaware of the stares of shock from the small audience of healers and Auror guards that had gathered. It was a complete about-face from his former attitude to the Hogwarts Potions Master. Remus merely hugged him in gratitude.

~~*~~

The Governor of Azkaban looked shocked as his Floo flared and Professor Dumbledore himself stepped out, soot falling away from him as if incapable of besmirching his clothes or beard.

"S-Sir! Professor, I - I didn't... Please, come and have a seat, can we bring you some tea? A footstool, perhaps or a glass of pumpkin juice?"

"Now, now, Percy, do settle down. I am sorry to disturb you so unexpectedly, but I fear you have one of my professors stashed away in your cells, quite by accident, I'm sure," Dumbledore said congenially as he took the seat behind the desk and surveyed his former Head Boy with a twinkling eye.

Percy gaped like a landed fish. "Oh no, Sir, that sort of thing does not happen any more! No one gets in here unless they come through me, I do assure you. My system is foolproof and organised, not like the usual haphazard way the previous administrators ran this place. We have a filing system and a lot of checks and balances in place to stop people being attacked indiscriminately or being lost in the system..."

"All the same, Percy, I believe one has slipped in unannounced," Dumbledore broke in gently over his tirade, backed up by a sweep of his hand at the neatly arranged folders around the walls. "We have evidence of an Azkaban portkey being used on the battlefield where Severus was last seen."

"Sev... Professor Snape? You lost Professor Snape? Oh, well, he wouldn't trip any alarms, one sweep of his Dark Mark and he would be immediately incarcerated," Percy said contemptuously then quavered under the steely look the Headmaster had taken on.

"Your prejudice does you no credit, my boy, and does Severus a deep disservice after all the time and sacrifice he has made on behalf of our tired and ailing world. Show me where he might be immediately."

"Sir, the Dementors...."

"Now!"

The dark and freezing cell looked empty at first glance, the Dementors passing it without stopping, but Dumbledore increased the output of his lumos spell and chased the shadows from the corners. A tiny huddle of black cloth was far too small to be such a tall man as Snape but nevertheless, Dumbledore insisted on going in. Percy shook his head and sent a guard in to haul the unfortunate to the light, shocked when the filthy, stinking individual proved indeed to be Professor Snape, a thin and fine drawn version of him with blood on his robes and empty darkness in his eyes.

"He's been stripped, Administrator," the guard said flatly, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Oh dear, this is... this is terrible, how did he get past my safeguards? Damn it, I will have to review all the procedures again and send out another hundred memos. Does no one read the procedural text these days? Honestly, how is a body supposed to keep everything documented if people don't follow the correct procedures?" Fussing and fuming, Percy stormed away, leaving Dumbledore to gently take Snape's shoulder and turn him, pointing him to the stairs and back up to the administration centre. The guard moved uneasily, but he was not about to confront the great Albus Dumbledore over a prisoner who was really not supposed to be there in the first place, especially a prisoner who had been stripped of all emotions by rogue Dementor action.

Severus moved like an automaton, guided by the hand on his shoulder, his thoughts locked down and away from all knowledge. He stepped when told, spoke when told, climbed when told, bathed when told, nothing penetrated until he finally smelled the comforting scents of home. Potions ingredients mixed with the furniture polish the house-elves insisted on using on his wooden furniture. Slowly, an inch at a time, he raised his head and looked around his home for the last twenty years. Perhaps the nightmare was really over, not just another Dementor induced dream to torment him and make him give up his last shred of hope, rescue by Dumbledore, his latest Master. It was indeed home and he had been rescued by Dumbledore who stood quite still and watchful on his hearthrug.

Moving like a wind-up doll, Snape gently ran his fingers over the sleek teak top of his expandable dining table, taking in the texture. Slowly, one step at a time he moved to his own bedroom and ran his hands over the intricate bas relief carving of his mother's bedstead, the beautiful scenes his comfort since he moved to Hogwarts. The clothes were his, the space was his and all of his senses confirmed that it was true, not some Dementor-induced hallucination.

Finally, Severus allowed himself to shake.