The Necromancer Amulet

Author's Notes: Thanks so much to my two excellent beta readers Beulah Page (from perfectimagination.co.uk) and kitkatkitty7!!!

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Chapter Twenty - Re-Awakening

She was standing close to the edge of a precipice, surrounded by darkness. Where am I? she wondered briefly, as she looked down into the pit. Down below, she could glimpse colours: a shifting mist of blue and green. The jump would not harm her, she knew this, but the knowledge was puzzling. It might even be pleasant to jump. The colours lured her, and she stared at them, transfixed.

Something wet touched her face, and she looked up. Beautifully crafted snowflakes fell downwards, peacefully. Snow is soft to land on.

"What is the situation?" said someone hurriedly in the darkness behind her. The voice was not important. She took one slow, step forward. The snowy crystals swirled ever so slightly around her feet, and their touch was kind.

"Internal burns and severe blood loss," another, equally unimportant voice replied. "The patient is not responding."

The sound of footsteps startled her, but she did not look around. A single snowflake caught her eye, and she followed its descent downwards with her eyes. It was time.

"Right, all potions are here," said a third voice, a very authoritative one, and she stopped in mid-motion, curious. "Are all of you ready? Potion transfer, on three. One ... two ..."

A strong flash of multi-coloured light lit up her surroundings as she turned. For a brief moment, she was looking down at a bed surrounded by five wizards in lime-green robes, their wands out, each of them holding an empty potion vial. In the bed lay a pale woman, whose body tensed at the impact of the joint spell. Then the glimpse was gone, and a sudden, brute force slammed Secessa into the darkness of her own body. The pain was intense, and she gasped, trying to scream.

"She's responding," said the first voice hurriedly. "We need to anaesthetise her!"

Something hit her body, and the pain was gone. Swiftly, she drifted off into darkness.

*

When Secessa opened her eyes, a single crystal bubble full of candles floated straight above her. The light of the crystal seemed almost alive, its shiny rays gleaming and undulating strangely. Moving her heavy head slightly, she tried to have a look around, combating the dizziness that threatened to pull her off into a pleasant sleep. Black spots immediately covered her vision, and she closed her eyes again, fighting a sudden burst of nausea.

Her body was very unresponsive, and Secessa peered hazily down upon her pale arms where they lay limp on top of the white cover. With an effort, she managed to turn her right hand, exposing her palm. The scar that had terrorised her for years was gone. What happened? she wondered languidly. Why am I not dead?

Another order from her mind, and her left arm responded. Slowly, she pushed her body into a sitting position. The room swayed, and she winced from the sudden sear of pain from her chest. Looking down at her body, she noticed she was wearing a short-sleeved nightshirt, of the kind that you would usually find in hospitals, and it felt soft against her skin.

As her vision progressively became clearer, the room around her expanded, and she noticed beds on either side of her in long rows. The room, which was very hospital-like, had oak-panelled walls. Patients occupied some of the beds, but none of them were very close to hers. She blinked, trying to clear her mind.

Far down at the other end of the room, a dark-haired medi-wizard looked up, and abandoning the patient he was tending to, he started walking briskly across the room towards her.

"Hello there. My name is Evander Hywel, and I'm the Healer of this ward," he said kindly as he reached her bed. His eyes were a warm shade of brown. "They transferred you here this morning, and it seems the potions they gave you up in the Merwyn Emergency Ward have finally worn off. How are you feeling?"

"In pain," she replied hoarsely, trying to smile back at him, but only managing a grimace.

"I'll give you a potion for that. It won't be as good as the ones you've been on so far, but at least you will stay alert."

He winked, and his eyes were so kind that she felt like crying. She didn't deserve his kindness; by practising Necromancy, she had blown her chances in the real world, and was now a dark witch without a future.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Not to worry," he said lightly. "I suggest you rest now." With a flick of his wand, he produced a small vial of clear liquid. "For your pain," he added, and gave it to her.

She obediently drank the potion under his calm, watchful gaze, a different kind of pain filling her chest. When he walked away, she followed his steps with her eyes for as long as she could, before drifting off into a deep sleep.

*

Severus Snape sat in one of the chairs in front of his fireplace, glaring miserably into the fire. Today was one of those awful days: he had been cursed with dumb-witted students all day, and he was due to visit the Malfoys' in a few hours time for his usual 'report'. To add to this, the Headmaster had asked him to attend some sort of meeting due shortly with a Russian delegate, concerning Professor Laburova, which left him with hardly any spare time at all.

He glanced at the table, where the heap of handed-in essays from Laburova's classes lay, and scowled. To prove his worth as a (Defence Against the) Dark Arts teacher by occasionally covering her back was one thing; lately, it seemed that all he did was cleaning up after her, and frankly, he was completely fed up with it.

Luckily, none of the students had understood his exchange with Laburova in Gryffindor Tower; they had all thought that he had just managed to stun her, and that she had already been injured out in the Staircase Hall. It was amazing, considering the fact that the spell he had used was not a Stunning Spell, but Gryffindors had never been a very clever lot. Miss Granger had of course given him one or two curious looks, but no word of what had really happened reached the Slytherins.

However, her long absence was causing people to become suspicious. Only last week, Lucius Malfoy had commented dryly that, for a Stunning Spell, the hit had been surprisingly lethal, and soon, the lie that Dumbledore had destroyed the amulet as soon as he had returned might become closely scrutinised as well.

No one had seen what had happened to it, of course. Once Laburova had collapsed, he had, despite the fact that he was swaying slightly himself from the impact of the blast, carefully removed the remnants of the amulet that were mixed in with the blood underneath her blouse, making it look like he was just examining her wounds. Then, he had waited for the Healers, allowing no one to come near her as he tried his best to stem the blood-flow from the gash on her chest.

The fact that she had a second time almost killed herself by an act of stupidity had frustrated him to no end, and when the Healers finally did arrive, he had angrily told them to remove her wand if they wanted to keep her alive.

Dumbledore would have to fire her, of course. Anything else would be ludicrous. Funny, how all their Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers turned out to be bad apples. I might even try applying for the job again. You never know.

Unfortunately, his moments of small satisfaction were often sadly short-lived, and this time was no exception. For some reason, he always seemed to end up in front of his fireplace, over-worked and fed up.

Sighing, he picked up the first essay from the pile, looked at it, and threw it back. Dreadful, he thought with annoyance. Perhaps I should just fail them all, and make them write essays on why they failed. At least that might waste less of my time.

The fire flared green. "Severus, my office, if you please," said Dumbledore's voice, and the Potions master rose.

"Yes, Headmaster."

Picking up his robes from where he had flung them over a chair, he walked out the door wearing a small scowl.

*

Dumbledore had always had an admirable ability to stay on top of situations, even when put against difficult odds, which was a source of irritation for many. Hence, Severus was not surprised when he arrived at the Headmaster's office and found a bristling, expensively robed man that had to be the Russian delegate, a pink-faced Percy Weasley, and a very nervous-looking, thin-haired wizard holding a briefcase standing opposite a pleasantly smiling Dumbledore.

"Ah, there you are, Severus," the Headmaster said cheerfully. "I was just explaining to these gentlemen that they unfortunately cannot question Professor Laburova, as she is still recovering from her latest ordeal."

"Yio ciould be hharrbiouring a crriminal at zis school, and yio vill not investigate?" the delegate said, his mouth a thin line.

"Mr Lestvitsa is absolutely right," said Weasley portentously. "This is simply outrageous, Dumbledore; surely you understand this! If Laburova is a dark witch, she needs to be removed from Hogwarts immediately! This demands a full Ministry investigation!"

Severus raised an eyebrow; if Weasley was this desperate to impress his superiors, his career couldn't be going very well. Perhaps there isn't much call for insufferable Gryffindors these days. But then, with Fudge thrown out of office, who's surprised?

"I think we will be able to provide you with all the information you need, in this case," Dumbledore replied, smiling.

"I refioze to deal vit zecond hhand inforrmation." The delegate's slanted eyes thinned. "Thiz iz an inziult to my ciountrry."

"Really, Dumbledore," pleaded the thin-haired man, sending an anxious glance at the delegate. "Is there no other way to solve this? If you could perhaps speak to the Healer in charge..."

"That, I'm afraid, is impossible at this point, consul," Dumbledore said calmly. "Now, you are here to investigate the death of Miss Elena Krotova, are you not?"

"The murder, if you please," mumbled Weasley haughtily, glancing at the delegate.

"Yes, of course." Dumbledore smiled benignly and turned to Severus. "Severus, you spoke to Professor Laburova concerning Elena Krotova's killer, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." Severus regarded the three men coldly. "Professor Laburova claims Miss Krotova was killed by the Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange."

Percy Weasley snorted. "That will not prove her innocence, Dumbledore."

The Headmaster smiled vaguely. "No, it does not. But I believe speaking to Bellatrix Lestrange in person will. She is currently being held in custody at the Ministry. If the Ministry were to sanction the use of Veritaserum during your questioning, this problem could easily be solved. You have done so while interrogating her of Voldemort's plans, have you not?"

The mention of the Dark Lord's name caused Severus to flinch, but he wasn't the only one; Percy Weasley stiffened and his face turned bright pink. Clearly, he had not expected the Headmaster to be that well informed of the Ministry's actions.

"Well, I -" Weasley stammered, his eyes darting from Dumbledore to the delegate, " - I suppose..."

"If this turns out to be true," the consul suddenly said nervously, again glancing up at the angry Russian delegate, who currently seemed very hard to placate, "it would certainly solve our problems."

"Yes, it would," answered Dumbledore happily before anyone else had a chance to cut in. "And I'm sure that Severus can provide you with more Veritaserum, in case you run out."

"Certainly." Severus watched Percy Weasley with mild fascination, as his cheeks reddened even further, his mouth a thin line.

"Well, then," said the consul to the delegate, apparently seeing his chance to get out of a sticky situation, "I see no reason to remain here any further, Mr Lestvitsa." Fingering his briefcase, he looked back at Dumbledore. "We will of course return if Bellatrix Lestrange turns out to be innocent of this murder."

"You are very welcome to," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Severus stepped aside as the three men exited the room, the Russian delegate giving him a suspicious glance and Weasley fixing his gaze rigidly ahead as they passed.

"I hope there will be no repercussions from this," he said slowly to Dumbledore as the sounds of their footsteps faded away. "If the Dark Lord hears that I have betrayed a fellow Death Eater..."

"He will not," replied Dumbledore calmly. "Our friend Mr Lestvitsa will write his report, and then both his and Bellatrix' memories will be modified. Shacklebolt will see to it. The letter will be sent, the investigation will be closed, and the errand forgotten; Bellatrix has already received a death penalty."

"And what of Percy Weasley and the consul?"

"It will all be taken care of, in due time. I'm sorry to have brought you into this, but you understand why, don't you?"

"Naturally." The consul and the delegate needed to be completely convinced that going straight to Bellatrix instead of the Ministry was the best option. If they listened to Weasley and got the Minister for Magic to sign some papers for them, a Healer might well allow them to see Laburova, and if she was put under the influence of Veritaserum...

He looked up at the Headmaster. "You do remember the misgivings I had earlier, Headmaster, about employing someone with such a dubious past?"

Dumbledore, whose gaze had briefly faded off into the distance, blinked, and regained his focus. "Yes I do, Severus." There was a brief pause as the Headmaster studied him carefully, and Severus waited impatiently for his response.

"I see no cause for worry," Dumbledore said finally, absent-mindedly tapping one of his violins with his wand, making the instrument take up a rather annoyingly cheerful tune, "since the amulet is destroyed. Remember that there are still Death Eaters in Russia, due to some unknown plan of Voldemort's. If the situation there escalates, we may even need Secessa's help."

"And you are not worried by the fact that she is not emotionally stable?" Severus asked softly, fury slowly burning inside him.

The frail, silver-haired wizard walked up to his desk and sat down, putting the tips of his long fingers together as he leaned backwards.

"I'm aware that she has been through a great ordeal," he said, his bright eyes very clear, "and I think the best thing to do right now is to show that we still trust her. Which is why I intend to ask her to join the Order."

"What!" snapped Severus, unable to hinder himself; the music was already grating on his nerves.

"Oh, yes. She's a powerful witch, and she will become a great asset to us. The fact that she protected our students by taming Nagini during the night of the attack speaks for itself. I think she is ready."

The bloody snake was another annoyance; no one seemed to be able to move it from the Front Gate, and it positively frightened the younger students. Severus struggled for calm by trying to think of cool pools of water.

"Very well," he said finally, glaring angrily at the Headmaster. "But don't expect me to baby-sit her the next time the Dark Lord launches an attack. If she makes another mistake, she will be on her own."

"And I'm sure she'll manage admirably," replied Dumbledore mildly.

Severus gave the Headmaster one last, furious gaze, which was met by two blue eyes tranquil as the sky.

"I have a meeting at the Malfoy's," he muttered finally. "I do not wish to be late."

"Of course. Good luck, Severus," said Dumbledore gently, and Severus nodded briefly in return. Then he turned on his heel, and swept out of the room.

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Author notes: Thanks for reading!!! As always, any comments are welcome!