Crucio

Severus bit back a sigh as he continued to follow behind Pettigrew. The hunched man was moving much too slowly now. Severus stilled his hand's urge to reach out and propel him forward. There was very little time to waste. The house-elf borrowed from Hogwarts was perfectly capable of babysitting Potter, but there would be too many complications if he was subjected to another Cruciatus so soon.

Before his irritation had a chance to increase, Pettigrew halted in front of the dark opening leading down to the cellar. Pettigrew turned, his overgrown front teeth pressed into his lower lip. "I-I b-best not go with you," the little man stuttered, not quite looking at Severus. Pettigrew never looked at him. "I agi-agitate him," he explained, his lips moving in tiny, smacking movements which made Severus feel vaguely nauseous.

"If you prefer," he agreed with a curt nod, not caring in the least. He simply wanted to get this over with. Pettigrew didn't move though. His eyes were darting back and forth between the shadowed stairs and the corridor leading back to the Dark Lord. His hands were wringing against one another.

"H-He," Pettigrew began stammering again, but Severus, his patience evaporating, waved his hand in a sharp motion.

"I do not require your guidance to find the bottom of the stairs," he informed the rat caustically. Pettigrew paused as he attempted to decipher Severus' sarcasm. He finally nodded jerkily in acceptance, while Severus pretended not to understand his discomfort. He had no time for it. Pettigrew, with one last nervous glance toward the stairs, murmured some inane platitude and scurried away down the corridor, his head still darting to the sides.

Severus straightened, grateful to be left alone. He descended the dank stairs as fast as he dared. And still he reached the lower level much too slowly. The room was damp and cold, lit only by a single torch; the light didn't reach the far corners of the room. But Severus could hear the faint rustlings of life in the darkness. The Dursleys perhaps...or what remained of them.

"Severus, you're late."

Bellatrix turned around slowly, her regal features twisted in a disdainful frown. Severus made no noise of surprise as she revealed Black, pressed up against the wall, his arms and legs spanning outward and held in place with no visible restraints. He looked perfectly whole, except for his eyes. Severus had seen that look in Muggles and Death Eaters alike through the years. He had caused that look more times than he cared to recall.

Severus turned away from the pain in the grey eyes to nod at Bellatrix in appreciation.

"Feeling generous tonight, Bella?" he drawled.

A slow smile spread across her lips. He wasn't certain if the expression made her look more, or less, deranged. She came toward him, her hips swaying as she moved. Her hand swept upward and Severus forced his face to remain perfectly still as she drew the back of her fingers along his cheek in a taunting caress. They had played this game many times since their Hogwarts' days.

"It will be more fun for you, if he's intact," she returned, her head tilting as she studied his dark eyes. The smile became cruel as her mad eyes darted back to Black. "Don't you think so, cousin?"

Black didn't answer; he didn't even look at them. He simply continued to stare straight ahead with dulled eyes. Waiting to die. He would be disappointed, Severus thought with a smirk that no one could see.

"Such disrespect," Severus marveled, allowing his eyes to widen a little in feigned disbelief. "Perhaps you'd best continue with his lessons, Bella," he suggested. Bellatrix turned again to him, her eyes almost glowing with excitement. She looked as though she should be salivating at the mere thought.

"You always did enjoy watching more than participating," she said in her high, unbalanced voice, softening the shrill laughter a bit to get a better effect. Severus raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement, before turning back to Black, who was still watching the opposite wall.

Bellatrix turned to the weary man, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Potter's pain was nothing compared to what Black had been experiencing. This torture was her specialty; Bellatrix had invented the slow treatment, designed to force the victim to bring their worst fears to the front of their minds and to make them re-live them over and over again until their minds were nothing but empty shells.

Moving his fingers delicately so that not even a shadow would be disturbed, Severus directed his own unique spell at Black.

"Don't be afraid to scream, Black, even if this feels like nothing compared to what I wish to do to you," Severus drawled, and Black's eyes moved the tiniest bit at the suggestion. "Bella won't be satisfied with a simple moan," he added with a small smirk, to which Bellatrix laughed her high-pitched cackle.

"Ago vestri vereor," Bellatrix said cooly, and on cue, Black began to scream.

--

Harry tensed as the door creaked open. Dodgy, the house-elf, rushed forward, bowing as Snape swept in. Snape's black eyes flicked very briefly toward him, before settling on the elf. "Has the boy caused you any trouble?" Snape asked, and Harry wondered if the elf would be able to detect the sarcasm.

Dodgy shook his head, his face filled with distress. He was wringing his hands anxiously as he looked back and forth between the two wizards. "Dodgy is not able to persuade young master to eat," he told Snape, looking very sorry indeed for his failure. Snape gave an unconcerned shrug with his fingers, unfastening and flipping his cloak off his shoulders.

He vanished them with a flick of his fingers. "If young master wishes to starve, he may," he informed Dodgy simply. Dodgy fretted with his tea towel, but didn't argue with the wizard who clearly outranked his younger charge. Harry could feel the familiar anger curling at Snape's cold tone, but he didn't give into it. He had too many questions. But Snape didn't wait to be asked any of them.

"We're leaving," he informed Harry curtly. To the house-elf, he ordered, "Return to Hogwarts." Dodgy nodded nervously, though he spared one last sad look at Harry before he disappeared with a loud crack.

Harry didn't ask where they were going, and it was just as well, as Snape didn't look like he was about to divulge any answers. He had been waiting patiently for Snape to return and undo his Sticking Spell. Wherever they were going, he would find some way to get away from Snape. To find someone willing to help him find Sirius...and the Dursleys.

With a wave of Snape's wand, Harry felt his backside lifting up from the sofa cushion. He stood slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements that might startle Snape into attacking him. Snape was watching him carefully as though he expected Harry to bolt. With a sudden frown, Snape's hand lashed out and then Harry's wrist was encircled by immovable fingers; Harry hadn't even had time to flinch away.

He stared at his trapped wrist.

"If you attempt to run, Potter, I will put you in a Body Bind," Snape said calmly as he turned on his heel, giving Harry's arm a sharp tug. Harry did his best to still the tremors that coursed through him as his mind took him toward memories he couldn't quite place. A sharp, callous tug that had forced him to leave the security of his solitude. He didn't want to be out here. With a wild motion, Harry yanked himself backward, away from the assault he knew was coming.

--

Severus turned in surprise, despite himself, at the force behind Potter's extrication. He opened his mouth to verbally flay the ungrateful wretch, but his tongue remained silent, his mouth slightly parted as he stared. Potter was crouching on the floor, his hands thrown over his face in defense of an attack. And he was shaking, course convulsions racking through his underdeveloped frame.

Severus recovered swiftly, and stepped toward the cowering boy, his arm outstretched to haul him back to his feet. Potter tried to scramble backward, his green eyes wild with fear and then with a deep shuddering breath, he began to scream. His body contorted grotesquely as he fell back against the hard floor. Severus, with a foul oath, continued moving forward and crouched next to him.

He hastily uttered the same words he'd first used in Umbridge's office to render the witch unconscious. The screams of agony ceased, and Potter's lips went slack with the release. His eyes remained closed.

"Damn it, Potter," Severus cursed, irritated by the unfortunate timing. He needed to get to Hogwarts to find Albus, or at least Minerva. His earlier message should have sent Dumbledore to the little shack with all haste. After all, his precious Potter had needed him. Pushing away his frustration with Albus, Severus gritted his teeth and prepared himself to enter Potter's mind for the second time that night. He hadn't been expecting another--not so soon after the first.

Severus found the barrier easily, though it seemed to have taken up even more of Potter's mind, blocking off a greater portion. Ignoring that new complication, as well as his memory of his earlier discomfort, Severus prodded the barrier, testing it. There would be no easy entrance. Growling in annoyance, Severus wasted no time, bringing the entire force of his mind to bear against Potter's barrier. Potter had already begun screaming.

The sound echoed like a heartbeat, frantic against Severus' ears. He raised his own shields, attempting to block out Potter's protests, but the part of his mind that was still aware, could hear the agony.

Severus wanted it to stop.

Bracing himself for the ripping sensation, Severus tore wildly against the barricade, desperate to make the horrible sounds cease their frantic track down his spine. Potter was making this too difficult, he realized angrily. Trying to punish him for losing the mutt. Furiously, Severus bore down on the accursed barricade, but with a cry of pure agony, instead of entering Potter's mind, Severus found himself watching Potter writhing against a dusty ground while the Dark Lord lazily tortured him, Pettigrew watching with satisfaction. And then with a sickening lurch, Severus was staring dizzily at Potter as he lay convulsing with continued pain on the dusty floor of Dumbledore's shack.

Severus, his breaths coming in huge, gasping swallows, tempered his rage at being bested by Potter's shields. He couldn't berate him, not while he was unconscious. Swearing loudly for the third time since he'd come through the run-down door, Severus picked himself up from the floor, swiping a quick hand down his robes to rid himself of the dust they'd collected.

Pinching his lips tightly together, Severus slid his hands under Potter's knees and shoulders, not caring this time if Potter's head did snap right off. It would serve Dumbledore right if he lost his Golden Boy, he told himself as he marched with terse steps out of the shack and on toward the barrier. Dumbledore would simply have to find a way to deal with Potter himself. With that comforting thought in mind, Severus turned on the spot, coming back to rights only centimeters from the ornate Hogwarts' gates.

The gates recognized his presence, and opened automatically. He walked swiftly down the path and up the stairs, pausing only when he reached the hulking gargoyles guarding the Headmaster's office. "Bitter Toffee," he recited impatiently, and the stone steps rotated him upward, Potter still dangling in his arms. The heavy wooden door opened obediently. Severus stepped inside, expecting to find the old man behind his desk.

He froze as he saw Albus, slumped in one of his chairs, his eyes rolled back into his head. One of his hands, up to the elbow, was charred black beyond recognition and there was an ornate ring lying on the carpet floor, just under the burnt fingers.

Severus sent a hasty Diagnostic Spell toward the fallen wizard. Albus' heart was beating erratically, and Severus could see instantly that he had been cursed; a powerful dark magic was coursing through his body. He needed to force it from the Headmaster's limbs immediately, or he would die.

Severus looked between the burden in his arms, and the wizard he'd sworn an oath to, almost fifteen years ago. The curse streaming through Dumbledore's body would not wait, but in the time it would take to stop it, Potter's mind could be lost. His jaw tensed in agitation as he forced his eyes from the Headmaster.

Not having time to set Potter down, Severus crossed to the fireplace, gathered a measure of powder in his fingers and flung it into the softly glowing grate. Green flames shot upward, and using as few words as possible, Severus stuck his head through the flames and called for Poppy.

The Mediwitch stepped through a moment later, but Severus was already kneeling over Potter. Ignoring Poppy's gasp, Severus finished forging his shields, shoring them up with added strength, and then he met the barrier once more.

Wasting no time, Severus threw his mind at it, already beginning to fight against the immovable wall.

No!

Severus could feel the fear lurking beneath the word, though it radiated fury at him.

Let me in, Potter, he raged silently, but as always, Potter wouldn't cooperate. He refused to listen. Severus could hear the screams of rage and terror in the distance somewhere, but he didn't care. Potter was too stubborn. Too full of his own self-importance, not caring about anyone but his worthless friends.

Pain wrapped around his thoughts again as Severus began ripping the barrier down, bit by agonizing bit. He firmed his shields and pressed forward. He could see glimpses through the tiny cracks. Glimpses of a perspiring and muddy Potter as he trudged around a well-kept yard, dragging various garden implements, before dropping to his knees to begin clawing purposefully at tiny weeds in the dirt. And then an older Potter, sitting dejectedly on a Gryffindor window seat as his mind whirled in guilt for a violation of his professor's privacy.

Severus almost paused in surprise as Potter's remorse echoed itself in his mind. He shook himself and pressed forward. The desperate ripping and tearing began anew as Potter, weakened from his efforts, could no longer fight.

A feral cry, and Potter's barrier shattered.

The sound tore through Severus' shields and he was almost forced out again. Barely finding purchase again, Severus reached into Potter's mind. He was hiding behind a piece of wall that had remained erect. Severus grabbed him and jerked him free of the wall with so much force, they were ejected simultaneously.

--

Harry found himself staring into Snape's eyes--into turbulence, where there had always been emptiness. Snape kept his gaze for only a second and then with a jerky movement, he was moving away. Harry scrambled backward at the sudden motion, halting only as he realized Snape was not coming for him. He was striding toward the opposite wall. Harry gasped as he saw Snape's intended target.

Dumbledore was passed out in a chair, with Pomfrey waving her wand frantically over his still form.

Hoisting himself clumsily to his feet, Harry gripped the edge of Dumbledore's desk to steady himself while he watched Snape crouching down in front of the Headmaster. Harry's green eyes widened as they followed Snape's wand, traveling up what should have been Dumbledore's arm. It looked nothing like an arm now, shriveled and blackened somehow.

Without meaning to, Harry had inched closer to the tense trio. The muscles around his stomach twisted themselves in knots. Dumbledore looked dead. Harry tried to settle his breathing, forcing himself not to interrupt whatever Snape was doing, and not only because he wanted Dumbledore's eyes to open again.

"Can you stop it, Severus?" Pomfrey was asking anxiously. Snape didn't answer her, and Harry listened in fascination as he began chanting a string of harsh Latin in a voice that sent foreboding chills down his spine. The words sounded too much like the ones Wormtail had uttered over that black cauldron in the graveyard.

Harry couldn't have said how long they all stood there, but his fingers ached from holding so tightly to the corner of the Headmaster's desk. Finally, with a long hiss of exhaustion, Snape slumped back against his heels.

"The curse has been lifted from his body, but the damage was severe," he rasped out as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Will he live?" Pomfrey asked softly as she placed a tentative hand on Dumbledore's arm. Snape nodded once.

"For now," he agreed. Harry's heart seized against his chest.

"What does that mean?" he asked, his voice shallow with his fear. Snape and Pomfrey turned to him, their expressions in direct opposition with one another.

"Mr. Potter," Pomfrey began gently, but Snape, with his eyes blank once more, stood up swiftly so that he towered over both of them, and Pomfrey fell silent.

"He is going to die, Potter," Snape clarified brusquely. Harry felt hot tears gathering in his eyes as the terrible words sank in.

"Severus," Pomfrey admonished quietly, "he's just a boy."

Snape said nothing to that, turning again to wave his wand once more over Dumbledore. "I don't know when he'll wake up," he told the Mediwitch.

Pomfrey nodded, her eyes drooping with grief. "What about Mr. Potter?" she inquired. Harry's lungs filled with course air, having no idea what she meant.

Snape didn't even look at him as he answered, "He will have to remain with me." He looked like he'd swallowed poison.

"There will be more than one objection, Severus," Pomfrey put in quietly, obviously uncomfortable with her own observation. Snape rounded on her.

"I don't give a damn who objects," he told her harshly. Pomfrey frowned at him, but after a moment of the pair staring one another down, she finally nodded.

"It is the safest option," she agreed, albeit with great reluctance as she glanced at the Headmaster. "Albus trusted you," she said, the words so quiet that Harry almost missed them.

"What about Sirius?" Harry finally spoke up, hating the way the question came out so tentatively. But maybe with Pomfrey here...

"Black is alive," Snape tossed out indifferently, his eyes drifting to Dumbledore.

"With Vol--You Know Who?" Harry questioned, stammering a little as Snape turned to glare warningly at him.

"The Dark Lord knows you are a fool, Potter," Snape said as he nodded. "He is waiting for you to attempt a rescue," he explained acidly. Harry lifted his chin a little, battling against these strange feelings of fear as he faced Snape.

"Someone can do something, can't they?" he asked quickly, before he lost his nerve. "Maybe Lupin-"

"Professor Lupin was injured, Harry...at your relatives' home. He has been taken to St. Mungo's," she tried to tell him gently, but Harry felt ill anyway, at the news. Lupin as well...

"Are-are the Dursleys' still alive?" he forced himself to ask, not wanting an answer.

"Your aunt and cousin were taken by You Know Who. Your uncle didn't make it," Pomfrey answered delicately. Harry swallowed as the truth soaked into his brain. Uncle Vernon. Dead.

"Was anyone else...hurt?" He didn't want to say the word. Pomfrey closed her eyes briefly.

"Yes, Potter," Snape intervened before Pomfrey could speak. "The Dark Lord rarely takes prisoners, and you should be grateful for that," he said, the vicious words cutting deeply as Sirius' face swam in front of his vision.

"Then we have to get Sirius and-" he tried to tell the two adults, but Snape only made a noise of disgust as he turned away from him.

Pomfrey spared a glance for Snape before saying carefully to Harry, "There isn't anyone who can help him anymore."