Anam Cara

Five

The honor of your presence is requested

on the evening of

January 10

At the Estate of

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy

Dumbledore handed the invitation back to me. It had arrived with this morning's owl post.

"He's done it," he said in a strange voice that seemed to mix surprise, apprehension and pride. "I had my doubts. I don't mind telling you I've feared for his life on more than one occasion."

"It's not over yet," I said.

"Are you ready? This is two days hence."

"How can anyone be ready for something like this?"

He peered at me with great concern. "Why have you agreed to this? This is an extraordinary sacrifice even given the circumstances."

I stood up and started pacing, my standard reaction to anxiety. "If they think that Severus has formed an attachment they'll use me against him to get to the cause. It'll be better to beat them to the punch-better to turn their advantage to our own."

"You're ready," he said definitively.

I stopped pacing and looked at him in surprise.

"If you had told me you were doing this because of any other reason, any other reason, I would have put a stop to this entire plan. What I heard just now was an auror's answer."

"What other possible reasons could there be?" I asked incredulously.

"Ah," he said, tenting his fingers, "with you? I'd have expected vengeance first followed possibly a desire for self-destruction. Love was likely as well, but I'm inclined to accept that as a given."

I chewed my lower lip and pondered asking him the question that I'd been holding back since first deciding to go along with this plot. "Sir, would it be possible . . . might I make a request?"

He looked at me expectantly. He knew what I was going to ask and he was just waiting to deliver the answer.

"If this works, when I get to London I want to be obliviated. If I'm being cut loose, I'd rather start with a truly clean slate."

He showed not the slightest glimmer of surprise. "That is out of the question."

I sank into a chair in defeat.

"You're a valuable auror and have experience moving in and out of the muggle world with ease. You are not being 'cut loose'. I can assure you of that."

He sat back in his chair and gazed up at the ceiling of his office. "Have you considered at all the effect your obliviation would have on Severus?"

"He'd never--" yes he would, and something told me that in his mind obliviation was worse than death.

"Following that line of thought, what would you think when you continued to hear his thoughts not knowing why or even who those thoughts belonged to?"

"You're right, of course. I'd think I belonged in St. Mungo's-- But I think that now."

He smiled. "Many would agree. If you do not feel you are ready for this, do not attempt it."

"If I'm not ready now, I never will be," I whispered.

***

My arrival at the estate was normal enough. The place was obscenely huge and overly ornate in decor. I was ordered to wait in a side parlor which was decorated in an extravagant rococo style that made me feel like I was standing inside a wedding cake. A soft sliding sound behind me caught my attention. I noticed a panel in the wall had opened revealing a dark passageway lit by torches. It was ridiculous really. I found it impossible not to laugh. I stepped into the passage thinking how much like a movie this seemed. Just on the other side of the screen, I imagined muggle teenagers are yelling, 'don't go into the dark passageway!' I was disappointed at the lack of cobwebs and nitre but one can't have everything. The corridor ended at a heavy wooden door that had been left ajar. I could almost hear my audience screaming, 'don't go through that door!' But the doomed heroine always goes through the heavy wooden door at the end of the dark passageway, so on I went.

The door lead outside, the corridor must have been a tunnel, and I found myself in a small clearing ringed with yew trees, of course, what else would they be? I was relieved to be outdoors. Inside my choice of hosts would be limited to spiders and dust mites or possibly an unfortunate house-elf.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are extremely rude to your guests," I called to the trees. "I would have very much appreciated an escort through your corridor of doom."

I was suddenly aware of several presences, figures were appearing around the clearing. I was surprised at how many there were. A wave of nausea rolled over me. I couldn't see them but I knew who they were. Their faces were hidden, either masked or hooded. A voice like fingernails on a chalkboard came out of the darkness. "Doctor Claros. At last we meet," I looked up toward the hooded figures. "It was kind of you to accept my servant's invitation."

Two masked figures materialized on either side of me and grasped my arms. "You will show the proper respect to the Master!" one of them hissed.

I turned to him. "I have no Master."

"Let her go," his grating voice called, eerily calm. "This is no way to treat an invited guest. As you heard, she has been treated abominably by her host. Please, Doctor, come closer. You have been brought here to talk."

I had no intention of doing so, but my escorts had other ideas. I walked between them toward the rest of the figures. The closer I got, the heavier the feeling of dread and sickness got in me. I was in the presence of pure evil.

"I demand to know why I am here!"

"I thought you might." He raised a withered hand and beckoned one of the figures forward. "Explain to your lady why we have invited her here."

I watched, hypnotized as the figure approached me and dropped his hood. Severus.

"You!" I spat as viciously as I could manage and lunged toward him. As expected my escorts held me back. "I should have known you'd come slithering out from behind his skirts. I told Dumbledore he was a fool to trust you the first day I set foot in Hogwarts!"

He looked at me with utter contempt. "Oh do shut up."

"What do you want?" I snarled. "Why am I here?"

"Because, my dear," he drew out the last word with a drawl which delighted his companions, "you do possess certain talents that the Master values quite highly."

"I can just imagine," I sneered back at him causing another ripple of snickering laughter to pass through the ranks. I felt a sudden urge to scrub the top layer of my skin off with a stiff wire brush.

He waved my escorts aside and stepped toward me, stopping only when we were inches apart. "Aside from your more obvious attributes," he paused and touched my face with the back of his hand. I flinched and drew away. "Your reputation precedes you. You are well-versed in the Dark Arts and comfortable in their use. You've proven that you have no reservations against using forbidden curses." He turned away slightly and raised his voice. "If we could find a way to strike you dumb, you'd be a valuable addition to our organization."

"Yours is an organization of cowards, weaklings and fools!"

He hit me with a violent backhanded slap that brought tears to my eyes. I raised my own hand to my stinging face and in a purely instinctive gesture drew my wand and pointed it directly at him.

"Enough!" 'The Master' himself was striding toward us.

"I do not make this offer lightly, nor do I make it more than once. What happens next is up to you. You will not leave here tonight. You may stay in my service, or you will die."

"I will not serve evil. I will not serve you."

"Don't be foolish!" Severus snapped.

"Failed that little test, did I?" I hissed at him in a stage whisper. "You of all people should know just how little this life means to me."

He took a step toward me. "Think of what you would gain. Think of the power."

I gave a contemptuous laugh. "Power? Oh yes, I can see the power you have. I can feel it. The Dark Lord's procurer."

A low, hideous cackle filled the air. "I would kill you myself but my followers are enjoying this spectacle." A murmur of assent ran around the assemblage. "I understand the lady is quick with her wand. One of our number found that out the hard way, she will pay for that." He was silent for what seemed like a long time. "And here, of course, we have our brother who came to us full of contrition," he indicated Snape. "Some here doubt his loyalty still. Now even his lover has disappointed him. She no longer finds his entreaties appealing."

The shock of that statement was nearly overwhelming. A quick, angry glace at Snape told me he was as surprised as I was. It was of no matter, if anything Voldemort's allusion would only make the end result more appealing to his subjects.

He was walking right into it. I began calculating the next part of the plan. Looking around quickly I found a possibility, dismissed it in revulsion then reconsidered and returned to it. I felt a grin fighting at the corners of my mouth as I set the hook for my escape.

Voldemort beckoned Snape to approach him. "Our offer has been refused."

"I can turn her, Master. She's stubborn, not stupid."He allowed a hint of desperation into his voice.

"If she can be so easily turned toward us, she can be as easily turned against us. She is of no use to us! You will kill her."

"My lord . . . "

"You will kill her, but it would be a shame not to let her display her skill with curses. I suggest a duel." A roar of laughter met that comment and I was pulled back to the task at hand. Snape had figured the plan to the last detail. His cunning was astonishingly accurate. I wondered how much orchestration had taken place before my arrival. I dared not do or say anything that might veer from the script.

"You've made your decision, Doctor? What a waste," he sneered.

I stared past him, refusing to answer. He turned on his heel and stalked off. A hush fell over the rest of the crowd. I stood absolutely motionless, already starting the leave-taking.

"Will you not defend yourself?" Came a soft, taunting voice from the crowd. I looked up then, and turned to face Snape. He stood as still as a statue, gripping his wand, tighter than need be, but I was likely the only one who noticed. I removed my heavy cloak and held it out as if expecting someone to take it from me. No one did. The soft rustle it made as it fell was the only sound in the clearing.

I lifted my wand, shook it absently a few times then raised it straight out in front of me, shoulder level pointed directly at him. Through a silver haze I watched him do the same, and even knowing what was going to happen, what was supposed to happen next, it was the only time I was ever genuinely frightened of him. I'd seen hunters with prey in their sights with the same look in their eyes. It was a last-second, instinctive knowledge when everything lined up perfectly. I was watching from outside myself. There was only just enough of my consciousness left in my physical form to complete the final act.

"We face each other again over death's doorway," I said in an intimate tone. "I hope this time you find the courage to see me through it." That was the cue. I slipped the final bond.

I wasn't there to see what happened next, I was conscious of a vivid blue light followed instantly by an angry flash of fire, but I was slipping along a silver ribbon at incredible speed approaching the end I'd set far faster than I expected. The collision was hard and fast, a hit, and tumbling, tumbling and falling, a struggle, briefly for control, then a sudden stretching, arcing and soaring flight and I knew where I was. It had worked. The target had taken, the host was receptive. We reeled around and flew back toward the manor. A swoop around the building on soundless, black wings seeking clearing again. Finally we found it and with a screech winged through and settled on a suitable perch. It was a scene from a nightmare. There can be nothing to prepare one for the sight of one's own lifeless body. A few hooded figures stood over mine. One was actually laughing. "It looked to me as if you'd missed." Malfoy.

"Does this look like a miss?"

"A kill on the first strike Severus? We'd hoped for some sport."

"There was sport enough."

A wand was raised.

"No. She was one of Dumbledore's hand-picked agents. Her body will send a powerful message."

All but one of the hooded figures moved away. Snape leaned over my form. He had to get the body out of there. There was no time to wonder if the plan had worked. I took my host body down to the ground and landed on my own shoulder. He backed away in shocked surprise, and reached for his wand as if to do away with me again.

I signaled the instinct-driven mind of my host that this nest needed protection. She lowered her body and spread her glossy blue-black wings in a gesture of defense.

Snape looked even more surprised, then a tiny hint of a smile began in his eyes. "You didn't. You couldn't possibly have chosen--"

A shadow passed over his face as he brought himself back to the task at hand. "No time . . . "

I directed my host to fly north. I laughed but heard my host's screeching call. He was right. Time was running out. If I didn't reclaim my human form soon, the body would be beyond claiming. We were nearly finished. He would be setting up a portkey that would send the body to where I'd get to it in a few moments, reclaim it and release my host then on to London. Severus Snape would return to Voldemort, a Death Eater in good standing. Melpomene Claros was no more.

Six

I didn't expect the pain. I'd practiced this again and again, but this time, as soon as I began to slip back into my own physical form, I was wracked with excruciating pain. I came to full consciousness with a scream. Every movement was torture as I tried to rise. I got as far as my knees before I had to stop and gasp for breath. It made perfect sense, I should have expected that being hit by a killing spell thrown by a powerful wizard--even one who may have pulled his punch--would leave a bruise or two. But that didn't help the way I felt now. I got to a sitting position and tried not to move again. I wiped the tears and hair off my face and then I noticed a heavy gold ring on my right index finger. I'd never seen it before. It had to be the portkey. It had an ornate design and looked to be extremely old. I sat as if paralyzed, with my hand in front of my face staring at that ring and everything it represented. My vision blurred with tears of pain again, but a deeper pain now than aches and bruises. This was the pain, all too familiar, of a profound and irretrievable loss.

"It's nearly over dear."

I heard a voice in my ear, a woman's voice. I was terrified. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry," another voice, a man's this time. I couldn't see either one of them. "We'll take you now. It'll be clear in a moment."

Take me? Take me where? Who were these people and why couldn't I see them?

A sudden flash of light blinded me further for a few minutes, and when my vision cleared I found myself in a scene from hell. Is this how they'd planned it? Is this the way I was to be introduced into muggle society?

"Easy, you'll be out in a minute," Another voice shouted over an unholy din.

"Do you remember what happened? It wasn't your fault. That lorry came out of nowhere. It's amazing you weren't killed."

I looked over toward the voice and into the eyes of the fireman who was cutting through the twisted metal of the wrecked car I'd ended up in.

"What's your name? Do you know what day it is?" Another face appeared, asking nonsense questions. They were questions to which I had no answers.

I leaned my head on the cracked steering wheel and burst into tears.

"Her bag's on the floor there, we'll get her ID after we get her out," I heard someone say.

The ministry was nothing if not thorough. I had nothing to do now but wait to find out who and what they wanted me to be.

****

The voices in the dark had faces now. I saw them through a haze in a rather luxurious hospital room. An elderly couple, they had shown up at the hospital claiming to be relatives shortly after my arrival by ambulance. Once they had gained the confidence of the staff, they sealed the room.

"Do you know who we are?" the man asked quietly.

I regarded him carefully before answering. "I recognize your voices. You are probably Unspeakables but that's not something you're likely to tell me."

The woman smiled but wanly. "We're from the Ministry. That's all you need to know. The less you know the better. We'll be here when you're released tomorrow and take you home and explain things in more detail, but right now what we need to know is what you remember."

"Why? Why is that so important? I remember everything up to when I heard your voice. After that, nothing. "

"We need the portkey," the man spoke up.

"What?" I looked at him, genuinely puzzled.

"The portkey. Your body was transported to us by portkey. We have to have it."

The ring. There was no way I was giving up that ring. They'd have to take my arm off to get it.

"I don't have any portkey!" I said, far too quickly. "It could have been anything."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at me. "I don't think you understand . . . "

"Of course I understand," I snapped back. "How dare you tell me I don't understand? I don't have a portkey." I glared at him, daring him to push further when I felt a cool hand on my right arm and heard the witch's voice. I couldn't make out the words, but they held me rapt while she lifted my arm and hand. "Where did you get this?" she asked quietly.

"Why that?"

"You wear no other jewelry, there is no jewelry in your belongings here," she indicated a plastic bag with a hospital logo on it that I assumed contained everything I had been wearing when I had been 'rescued'. She was right. I had left all my jewelry in my trunk at Hogwarts. What would become of it was a mystery to me.

"So why this ring?" Her question shook me back to what was happening and I tried to snatch my hand back. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "It--it was a gift. Christmas."

"It's rather unusual, don't you think? I suppose there's a story behind it." She looked at me closely. I was sure there was and was equally sure that if I didn't come up with it I'd lose the ring there and then. I took a deep breath and tried to stall for time while I reached for any memory of ever having seen it before.

The wizard cleared his throat. He was clearly unwilling to wait. I looked at him in desperation.

Please!

The portrait, Melpomene. Remember the portrait.

I heard Renata's voice as clearly as if she was standing in the room with us.

Suddenly I saw it. The painting on the stairs. Renata's portrait.

Look closely!

I looked closer at the picture she was showing me. She was young, beautiful, holding a gazing ball in her left hand . . . and that's where I saw it.

"It was his mother's," I looked the wizard in the eye. "It belonged to Renata Snape."

The witch smiled, and the argument was over. "It is very old," she said looking at the design closely, "It must have been in the family for generations. But this design has been recently altered."

I looked at her, confused. "Altered? How?"

"It looks like a puzzle. It's been worked into the design. He didn't show you?" She held my hand up to the light and waved her hand over the band. Light raced over the swirling, serpentine engravings picking out certain lines and throwing others into shadow, revealing words in a runic script.

"No," I whispered. "He didn't show me." It was so like him I felt he was in the room with us.

"What does it mean?"

She dropped my hand and the spell was broken, the words faded back into the design, hardly noticeable. "I won't tell you what it means. You're meant to find that out on your own. If he'd wanted it to be easy, he'd have told you himself."

Cold. Numbing cold, and dark. There were torches lit but they struggled to throw light on the walls. The route was familiar though, there was no need for light. The only sound were footsteps ringing on the cold stone floor of the corridor, stopping suddenly at an unexpected sound, an unexpected touch.

The numbing cold was inside now, ice water pumped by a racing heart. Eyes closed, totaled darkness. A quiet voice. "It's done."

The touch on the shoulder became firmer, strengthening.

A whispered response. "Yes."

A nod, an outstretched arm, what was it holding? The offering burned in the giver's hand, but the thought of being relieved of it caused a deeper pain. He gripped it harder, pressing the wood deep into his skin hoping the impression it would leave would be a lasting one. As if in a daze he watched it slip away into the hands of the other as he released it. It looked so small, in such big hands.

The eyes of the giver met the eyes of the receiver as he took the wand.

"Severus, you know she lives. You didn't kill her."

"But I did," came a hissed, angry reply. "Of course I did! What's left of her as far as this world is concerned? A stick of dead wood."

"I spoke with her just before she left. She had very good reasons to go through with it. Her own reasons."

The ice-water was warming, quickly, becoming hot, nearly boiling. "Did she? I doubt that. She did it because I asked her to do it. She wouldn't have done it for you, or for Peter Tilbury or for Cornelius bloody Fudge! We all knew that. I agreed to ask her. She was dead to this world before I left that room. She trusted me, Albus . . . do you understand what I've done?"

"We have all made sacrifices, Severus, some more than others."

"Where--who is she now?"

The wise eyes turned hard. "You know I can't tell you that. You know she lives. Comfort yourself with that." The sound of robes rustling, the figure turning away to leave.

"I will not!" The voice echoed in the dark corridor. An arm shot out, blocking the way. "I have to know," quieter now, a hint of desperation, "I must know."

The figure stood unmoving, silent, waiting. The arm fell away. A few steps, a pause, a turn. A warning glance.

Then darkness. Terrible soul crushing darkness.

I'm here! I called out, but heard no reply.

"I'm here," I struggled through the blackness, gasping, reaching out blindly. I heard a sound, something falling far away.

"Right here with you. Always with you!" Suddenly lights were blazing, and I felt sharp pain in my arm that jolted me awake. "NO!" I shouted at the startled nurse. "No!" I gasped at her as she dropped the syringe onto her tray with a blank expression. "What did you do?" I asked her "What was in that?"

"A mild sedative," she answered blandly.

"I was asleep you idiot!" I hissed at her. "Why would I need a sedative?"

She put her hand on her hip and sneered at me. "You need one now, don't you? Anyway, if that was asleep--you were talking and thrashing. You knocked over that pitcher of water."

I looked toward the bedside table. "I was not thrashing," I said quietly. "I was trying to reach . . . " someone . . . I turned to her in fury. "If you or anyone else comes near me again with any drug--any drug at all in any form, even a goddam aspirin--"

"It's on your chart."

"Give me that," I grabbed it from her and blanked the page. It was wrong and I'd hear about it but I absolutely could not have my consciousness altered.

"I don't see anything." I handed it back to her roughly.

Her smug expression disappeared the moment her eyes lit on the clipboard. Page after page of blank forms. She looked at me goggle-eyed and fled from the room.

"No more drugs!" I spat after her and slumped back down onto the pillow.

Closing my eyes I saw the corridor again. The scene played out before me in pieces again, and the feeling of emptiness crept back over me. What I had seen was no dream. I'd just been present at the official announcement of my own demise and felt the effect of the reality of it on the bearer of that news.

Always with you. Always. I tried to reach him, but felt the effects of the 'mild' sedative overwhelming my senses. I was slipping into a cool, muffled, odd sort of place when I felt, more than heard,

"M' Anam Cara."

***

I awoke with a throbbing headache. No one had come into the room since the night nurse, although I noticed several times that hospital staff would gather outside my door and engage in frantic, whispered conversations.

"Good," I told myself and turned toward the window. "Anyone steps in here gets turned into a bat." A wicked foul temper could focus a curse almost as well as a wand.

"A terrible idea, dear. You don't want to draw any more attention to yourself." The voice of the witch from the ministry rang through the room.

"Why did they give me a tranquilizer?" I asked her as she entered with the wizard entered the room carrying a small satchel.

"It shouldn't have happened. You're right. But that's no excuse for blatantly . . . Do you know how dangerous it would be if you were to be found out?"

I picked at the thin blanket. "She interrupted--I saw--"

The witch looked quickly at her cohort, her expression registering surprise. She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Tell me."

I took a deep ragged breath. "He was at Hogwarts. Dumbledore has my wand." I shook my head, "That's all. That nurse, with her needle-that's all I saw." I felt suddenly chilled and looked up at both of them.

"Something's wrong, what?"

They were looking at each other, clearly communicating but they were highly trained and were able to block their thoughts from me.

She turned back to me. "You saw this? Or felt it? Think carefully."

I was confused. My mind still muddled from the tranquilizers, "Saw it--no, felt it too. It was like any other . . . No!" At once I knew what she was asking, what they were wondering. It was something I hadn't taken into consideration--a terrible, terrible mistake. "No!" I whispered, nearing panic. "This body lives!"

The wizard came forward. "Lives now, yes. We don't know--we won't know for sure. Death breaks a blood bond. It's the only way to break a blood bond."

"I'm not dead!" I was shouting now.

The witch sealed the room and put a silencing spell around us. "No, no, dear you're not. We just don't know. Do you?" she asked quietly.

I didn't. I was too confused, too disoriented and too frightened to understand what I'd seen, what I'd felt. I'd called out. Had he heard me? Could he hear me?

"Yes! I know," I grasped at all I had. "I saw through his eyes! I felt his pain!"

She took my hand and looked into my eyes. I felt calmer. "That's what's important."

"Yes. That's what's important." I couldn't break eye contact with her. Suddenly I knew. It came to me like a shot. I ripped my hand away from her and snapped at them. "This is what Tilbury wanted from the start, isn't it?"

They looked taken aback, but I suspected it was more from being found out than anything else. "That stupid charade of an interview. Months ago--this is what he was getting at."

"No," said the wizard. "No one ever intended this."

"But this makes it that much easier, doesn't it? You have your agent firmly back on the inside and you think I can track his every movement from the safety of . . . And that's why Dumbledore wouldn't agree to obliviation," my voice tapered off. No one said anything else for what seemed like a very long time. "If the bond is broken . . . You didn't think of that either, did you? If the bond is broken then all of this . . . All of this is pointless!"

"Your blood bond may indeed be broken. But you are still a seer, talented enough to have been approached to play an important role in this. Any contact you can manage will be valuable beyond your imagination. None of this is pointless." The wizard's voice sounded angry but his face showed no trace of hostility. "You should know--you must know there are stronger bonds than those created by our puny spells. Those bonds can never be broken. Certainly not by anything as trivial as death."

If I hadn't been confused before I certainly was then.

"There's no reason for you to stay here any longer." The witch stood up and reached for the satchel. "We've brought you some clothes. We're taking you out of here. It's time you met yourself."