Ancient Prophesy

Chapter 11

Eight words the Witches Rede fulfill:
If it Harms none, Do what Thou Will!

Reaching the destination of the Joining close to sunset, Severus looked around him, trying to determine his location. Anywhere Lord Voldemort was he could summon his legions with the Dark Mark. They would come at his calling, drawn to the location like spawning salmon, destined to give their lives upon the completion of their journey. Severus stood and watched as a grey fog began to churn and twist into the depressions; a legion of ancient souls perhaps, called by the joining as well.

Close to the coast, then. He thought it would be. The hill of Gwynn ap Nudd, as before.

Far off in the west, distant thunderheads rumbled back and forth as the sun's rays reached out from beneath them, traces of red and orange mixing with the gathering black. Here among the ominous colors, he waited in tense readiness.

For a long time he knew this day would come. The battle lines now drawn between the two forces left him a marked man on both sides. Just who was he now? An onlooker on a wind swept crag caught up in a destiny whose links had been forged a millennium before. Dumbledore had warned him this journey would not be an easy one.

You may try to control your destiny Severus, but you can not escape it. Such is the essential nature of the universe. Growth and change are inseparable, linked most often through pain and most noticeable whenever one fails to pry free the chains that bind them to their past. You must change or perish for, as we know, time and tide wait for no man. The destiny you have created for yourself will be shaped by your past. If you cannot escape your past, however, you will be unable to shape a future in which you will survive .

Was it destiny for history to repeat itself? His history. With his own hands he would mix the infusion for the next generation of Death Eaters to ingest. So much for shaping my future by escaping my past, he thought miserably. How much more will return from the past, showing up to haunt me?

Sensing a sudden presence, he spun around, looking down into the depression below. At the forest's edge, a line of black-cloaked figures filed silently along the path to vanish mysteriously behind a dense cluster of trees. Severus watched from his location on the rocky knoll as several more figures Apparated onto the path below him and made their way toward the forest and the larger hill in the distance.

He needed to hurry, for there was much work to do. Picking his way down, the loose gravel sliding from under him, Severus faltered as he experienced an illusion of déja vu. Long ago Helga Hufflepuff warned of this night. Forewarned of this moment:

Oh, what he wouldn't do for a Time Turner right about now; he'd go back and strangle the Witch Hufflepuff with his bare hands! Sliding slowly to a stop, he righted himself and brushed the gravel and dirt from his hands and robe. First checking to see that the contents of his satchel remained undamaged, he began to pick his way carefully down the path leading to the Hill of Gwynn in the distance.

Again sensing something rather than hearing it, Severus drew his wand and paused, peering down the mist-shrouded path. Emerging at a quick trot came the one sight in the world that Severus never thought--even in his wildest nightmares--to see here. A large, black hulking outline emerged from the concealment of the brush, its shaggy fur covered in burs. With wide gleaming eyes it ambled toward Severus, a wet, pink tongue lulling to the side of its canine teeth.

With a whispered snarl, Severus spoke to the dog. "What in hell are you doing here, Black? How did you find this place? I always knew you were foolhardy, but this is just sheer stupidity!"

Casually, the Animagus form of Sirius Black looked up at Severus. Walking full circle around the man, he paused to the immediate left of Severus' boots, lifted his massive back leg and urinated at a small outcrop of shrub and rock. Turning his backside to the maniacal look being thrown his way, Black pawed and scraped the gravel beneath him with stiff legged backward thrusts, throwing up gravel and urine dampened rubble onto Severus' polished black boots.

With a swift motion Severus kicked out at the dog, his long legs narrowly missing the targeted backside of Black.

Severus watched as Black, with one last look over his massive haunch, dismissed him with the closest thing to a canine smile he had ever seen and then trotted down the path in the wake of the Death Eaters. Thinking of the curses he could legally use on Black, Severus reached once again into his bag, pulled out a black hooded robe and prepared to follow him.

~*~

Though the day had been hot, winter was not far off. The evening air was so crisp and fresh that Raven paused outside the cottage, breathing in great gulps of sea air, dead leaves, cold earth and damp Highland sweet grass. The scene outside was artwork, perfect in its clarity with stone walls and Rowan trees drawn sharp against the setting sun, black quill strokes of nature. Not yet ready to leave Ravenglass, Raven and Harry decided to eat with Elizabeth at the pub found on the crossroads.

According to Elizabeth, the Shandygaff's ale was warm and its food cold, but the gossip more than made up for it. Stepping out of the cottage, Raven could not help but pause at the sight before her.

"I've never seen a sunset on the waters of the Atlantic before," she remarked sadly. "Just the sunrise."

Stopping next to her, Harry also looked out to sea, where the setting sun had just begun to send out brilliant rays reflected in stark relief off the gathering thunderheads around it.

"Neither have I. It is beautiful."

Skyward, the gold and red rays touched the clouds behind them, turning them into rolling hills of fire. Further east, the sky had darkened into twilight and indigo, where the first fine pinpoints of starlight flickered, heralding the approach of night.

"Those are Gryffindor colors--red and gold," Harry pointed out proudly.

Turning east, Raven pointed out her comparison.

"And those would be known as Ravenclaw blues, by chance? Mum's favorite color--the exact moment in the evening sky between dusk and dark."

With a teasing smile she looked at Harry and he noticed that her eyes almost matched the brilliance of the evening colors of which she spoke. Lowering her arm, she turned again to face the setting sun.

"We would get up early--way before sunrise on the feast days. You know, Solstice days--and drive to Arcadia Park on the coast of Maine to watch the sun come up. My birthday is the Fall Equinox, so we would make it special by having a huge breakfast somewhere; Belgian Waffles smothered in cherries and fresh whipped cream, usually."

She felt Harry step up behind her and place his hands on her shoulders. Leaning into him, she continued.

"I miss her Harry, she's all I had. Roy tries, but it's not the same. Do you know what we did for my birthday this year? I picked up her death certificate at the lawyer's office. Then I left Roy standing in the street and drove by myself to Arcadia. It was late afternoon by the time I got there. I don't ever remember missing a sunrise. Hell, we'd go in the rain and then laugh ourselves silly over hot coffee and waffles."

Harry felt her shoulders shake from bitter laughter or suppressed emotion. He was uncertain which.

"And I ended my day with Severus Snape trying to kill me. Talk about a change in routine," she said coldly, folding her arms in front of her.

Slowly, Harry slid his hands down her arms and tucked his fingers in the crooks of her elbows in an effort to let her know she wasn't alone. Reaching up, she took his hands in hers and pulled them down, holding them crossed in front of her. Leaning in closer to one another they stood and watched the setting sun in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, each feeling just a little less alone as a silent understanding passed between them.

"Do you think my Mum and Hagrid knew one another?" She asked suddenly, breaking the silence around them.

"Yes, I suppose they would have known one another." He answered back. "Why do you ask?"

"Maybe they can take care of each other, then. I just can't help thinking that there is no one to take care of her now."

"Hagrid would like that," he said quietly back to her.

Once more she spoke, her voice little more than a whisper.

"You said you wanted to stay angry--I wish I knew who to be angry at. Does it make you feel any better, Harry--being angry, I mean?"

He considered her question a moment without answering, and then pulled away from her. "No," he said, turning and walking toward Elizabeth, who was now standing by the car. "Just hollow."

~*~

Dumbledore had assured him that following Snape would not be a problem. Avoiding Snape's detection would be. Well, I took care of that problem right away, he thought. Arrogant bastard deserved a little piss on his boots; after all, associate with Death Eaters and you might as well smell like one too.

Snape had only his eyes and ears to assist Dumbledore; Sirius had his nose as well. Sirius knew their smell. Locked up with Death Eaters for twelve years--yes, he knew the scent of them all too well. That was why he was here, to identify as many of them as possible for Dumbledore. It was his job now to track the location of the Dark Forces. A dog could pass easily through Dark Curse Shields. And pass he had, to within twenty feet of most of Voldemort's men. For days on end while in Azkaban he had stayed in this canine form to retain his sanity, but what little he saved had come at a price. Even after five years he found himself uncomfortable around people. Only around Remus could he relax, even then he suspected on some level those feelings were instinctual. They had run together as pack mates and that instinct would never leave him.

He exhaled deeply, breath steaming in the cool night air. Curse Shields smelled rotten, just like the Death Eaters casting them. Nose to the wind, he sniffed again for anything that would point out the location of the Joining. A sound to his left brought him back to his present location, causing his ears to flatten back and his muzzle to lift, baring sharp teeth. Sniffing the wind again, he oriented on a familiar scent of Snape and several unfamiliar ones as well. They stood at the base of the distant hill, Severus unpacking his satchel next to a large silver caldron barely visible in the waning light.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to poison the lot of them?" He had asked, when Dumbledore had first asked him to infiltrate the Joining. "Certainly even Snape would be good at that."

"I fear it is not that simple, Sirius. Voldemort is no fool. He would kill Severus at the first sign that the potions preparation had been altered. Severus and I both have gone over the potion, there is no way to change it that will not alter its color or consistency."

"Then send in a team of Aurors, sir. We can't just let Voldemort gain the support of that many Death Eaters. We must stop them before they gain strength again!"

"I know that, Sirius!" Dumbledore had said, looking angrier than Sirius had seen him in years. "And who would we send in? Most of the men you remember have gone into retirement or are dead. Alastor Moody is training as may new recruits as he can and even young Ron has been instrumental in the organization of our Auror operations and the instruction of the trainees, but only a few Aurors are ready now. The Ministry is no help. We need to know who has voluntarily returned to Voldemort. Since the destruction of Azkaban we have no way of knowing who the Dementors freed to return with them to Voldemort and who simply are in hiding, fearful of being placed into captivity again--much like yourself."

Like himself, right--big difference there. He hadn't been guilty. Quite a few had not been guilty, but they had died early on. The rest, the true Death Eaters, people like the Lestranges, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood--all of them had faithfully waited for the return of their Lord. He smelt Rookwood as he had passed by. Yes, they all would be here tonight.

Crawling deeper into the shrubs, he lay his head upon his massive paws and continued to watch the black robed figure of Snape as he unpacked his satchel. Again he tried his best to smile with a canine mouth. Thanks to that satchel he had been able to locate Snape. Dumbledore had placed a tracking spell on it prior to Snape's departure for the Joining.

"If discovered, then Severus can truthfully claim no knowledge of it. He certainly will know I did it and will waste no time in telling Voldemort what an untrusting, suspicious old fool I am."

One thing for sure, Dumbledore was no fool. He had been correct--the Death Eaters of the past were now gathered with those of the future and Sirius' sensitive nose recognized every one who had been with him in Azkaban.

~*~

By the time the sun's last rays covered the Atlantic in a blanket of color Raven, Harry and Elizabeth reached the inn at the crossroads. Light shown warmly from the paned windows of the Shandygaff and voices drifted out the open door from which an older man emerged.

"Why, good evenin' to ye Mr. Wallace. I didna' kin ye to be closing early this night." Elizabeth said.

"I'm not Mrs. O'Connor, I'm uh...due at a gatherin' this evenin'." He answered with a startled look on his face.

He reminded Raven of a deer caught in headlights, not knowing where to run. Stopping behind Mrs. O' Connor, Raven waited while the man held the door open for the party to enter. As she watched him, she felt a strange feeling come over her, a tingling sensation that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

Without realizing she was doing it, she stared pointedly, watching as Wallace stepped back and then stiffened as Harry and Elizabeth began to walk past him. His eyes narrowed and followed Harry; a mixture of shock and fear on his face. Harry simply met his stare and then continued into the pub after Elizabeth, but for some reason Raven was unable to tear her gaze away from the man standing there with the door held open. Why did she know him, and why did she feel such a sense of foreboding tingling every pore of her body? Where had she heard that name before--Wallace?

Suddenly their eyes met and Raven felt a jolt of adrenaline course through her as she realized that she recognized him. With a calculating stare he turned and watched as Elizabeth and Harry took the table by the front window. Turning back to her, he flashed a smile that turned her blood cold.

Closing the door, he stepped onto the bricked pathway never once breaking eye contact with her. Without a word he slipped his wand out. Raven felt her blood--blood that moments before had run cold through her veins--flash hot and flush with energy. Lifting her hands palm forward, she felt that energy serge forward and linger there, undirected.

His eyes only left hers when the door to the Shandygaff opened behind her. Looking past her to the door, his eyes blazing, Wallace lowered his wand and then slowly retreated down the path. Raven saw him turn and touch the tip of his wand to his left, upturned forearm; a barely audible pop blew to her on the wind and Wallace disappeared into the night.

With a certainty that made her ill, Raven knew how her mother had been found, and she now knew whom to hate. Jumping at the sound of the voice behind her, Raven whirled, hands still thrown up in protection.

"You--um--need some help?" Harry questioned, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

Still reeling with emotion, Raven shook her head no, and took several unsteady steps toward Harry.

Reaching out, Harry steadied her, slipped his arm around her waist and guided her into the pub.

Doing her best to conceal her emotions, she allowed Harry to pull her chair out and place a warm mug of amber liquid into her hand. Part of her wanted to follow Wallace--but how? Part of her wanted to wait in ambush--wait for Wallace's return and then do something, do anything, to make him pay for destroying her family. Only looking at Elizabeth's earnest face stopped her from blaming the woman for allowing the letters meant for her mother to fall into the wrong hands. The very hands that may have murdered her Mum.

She had no proof of her conclusions, only a gut feeling based on the way he had looked at her. Had he seen her at the Leaky Cauldron? If he had learned she had been with Harry last night only to find her with Elizabeth O' Connor now, would the connection be made? If he indeed was a Death Eater, had he pieced together who she was?

Taking a large gulp of her drink, she felt her shaking hands calm a bit. Looking up she did her best to speak calmly as she inquired about the drink. "Thank you, I needed this, and it's very good. What is it?"

"It's butterbeer, Raven, and you're changing the subject. What was that about out there?" Harry asked, looking sternly at her.

"What?"

"No, don't play that game. I mastered that one years ago! Why did Wallace have his wand out?"

"He what?" Elizabeth gasped.

Inhaling deeply, Raven took a calming breath and turned her attention to Elizabeth. "The man who just left here--Wallace, how well do you know him?"

With a quizzical look on her face Elizabeth, thought for a moment. "Well 'e's a regular 'ere. Only recently moved to town--I believe 'e lets a flat above this place and tends the bar most evenin's. Why?"

"Does anyone in town know him?" Raven pushed, hoping for more information.

"Mostly everyone in town is related to someone else 'ere one way or another, but come ta' think of it, no I don't believe Mr. Wallace 'as any relatives around. Mostly the town folk are wizard families with a Muggle or two thrown in 'ere or there as relatives. Ye will get the occasional Muggle tourist wanderin' in. Wallace does'na seem too fond of 'em when they're in the Shandygaff--hardly tolerated 'em, but 'e 'as always been polite enough to me. Did 'e say something to you, lass?" she questioned, clearly upset at the notion.

"No, not a word. He didn't have to." Raven answered. "The woman at the post office said he would bring packages up for you. Did he do it often?"

"But I don't understand?" Elizabeth said. "Aye--'e did offer to do little things for me. Showed up at the cottage and offered to do work 'round it--'elp with the chores and such. I'd laugh and tell 'em I might be old but I could still lift a wand. I thought 'e must 'ave been lonely, aye? He did take mail for me to the Muggle post office. I guess that 'tis odd when you think about 'em not havin' much tolerance for Muggle folk." She paused and wrinkled her white brow in concentration.

"I took ill some months back and 'e started checkin' in to see how I felt. Yes--that's about when 'e started takin' the post. Come to think about it 'e hasn' been 'round much at all. At least not since the last message I sent Ezzy. I 'ave even felt myself again of late."

Raven shifted her attention to Harry. "I recognize him, Harry--from last night with Malfoy."

Harry leaned forward, green eyes instantly dark and fuming. "At the Cauldron? I didn't see him there."

"He left with a second man before you came down. They both were at the back table with Lucius Malfoy. When they went to leave, Mr. Malfoy stopped at our table and told Draco that Wallace and Goyle were leaving and that it was time for Draco to leave as well. Mr. Malfoy was quite irate that Draco refused to go home with him. Told him in no uncertain terms that he better be ready in the morning."

"James Wallace was with Lucius Malfoy?" Elizabeth interrupted, her face lined with shock.

Raven reached out and took Elizabeth's hand. "I know it was him, Elizabeth. I'm lousy with names but I never forget a face."

Harry's features darkened as the implications of Raven's statement sunk in. "I know he recognized me just by the way he looked at me. I'm used to some type of reaction from people, his was rather negative--but if he recognized you..."

"I don't know if he did. He and the other man left before Draco and I tangled. If Draco keeps his mouth shut about me then I'm still safe, otherwise they might just make the connection, especially since Wallace just saw me with Elizabeth."

Slowly Elizabeth removed her hand from Raven's and covered her heart as the realization of what Raven and Harry were saying filled her with dread. "Are you implying it t'was Wallace who learned of Ezzy's location? Oh my Lord in Heaven, I gave 'em the letters. I sent 'em off with praise and thanks and 'e just smiled at me. 'Think nothin' of it,' he said. Oh, child what have I done? All those years of keeping ya' Mum and ye' safe and I handed him your address!"

"Mrs. O' Connor, you didn't know," Harry offered consolingly.

"But I should 'ave, Harry. I was the only link to 'er. In the beginning they watched me. I knew it! We were so careful. I 'andled everything like I was supposed to--I sold the lands and the manor house. As 'er only living relative, I 'ad the right to do so. We sent the money to 'er through the shop. Simple business transactions--nothin' to tip 'em off. Oh, what have I done! And now ye are 'ere. The very thing yer mother wanted to avoid the most."

"Voldemort must have had men watching you again," Harry added. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Hufflepuff's journal clearly states that a descendent of Ravenclaw will join with Gryffindor and stop Slytherin again."

"But he had no reason to suspect Raven was ever born!" Elizabeth said, practically shouting at him.

"As I understand it, Elizabeth, everything in that journal has been accurate so far." Raven answered her. "If Helga said there would be a Ravenclaw involved more than likely Voldemort has decided to watch this area again to make sure that it does not happen."

"If everyone thought your mother dead, and then suddenly she shows up alive, certainly they would be looking for you, too, Raven." Harry added. "Why not kill you as well?"

"I don't know--unless he wants me alive for something. I'm mentioned in the letters to Mum as well as in the Prophecy--in the tarot reading--The Empress. They'd be looking at you, Elizabeth, to find me. You were the only connection left to Mum."

Uttering a small cry, Elizabeth laid her head upon the table, arms folded over the top of her hair. "Ezzy, forgive me, child, I've failed you," she whispered in a muffled sob of despair.

~*~

With the hour close to midnight and the moon dark as pitch, the group had slowly assembled at the base of the Hill of Gwynn. Glancing back over his shoulder, Severus felt a sudden strange chill come over him. Flanking the path, twelve robed figures, hoods draped low on their faces, stood bearing flaming torches that rippled and shredded the blackness into a sea of undulating shadows. The very air suddenly felt cooler around him, perhaps from the eerie gray fog, which drifted and crept across the turf at his feet. Even his hooded cloak failed to keep out the chill.

Moving as if possessed of life, the sinister-looking fog had begun to wind its way up the path, snake-like in its movement. A spell of tense silence quickly fell as a voice from one of the twelve guards spoke into the darkness.

Severus noted with perverse pleasure that Lucius Malfoy's Latin was flawless, for even cloaked he knew it was Lucius that spoke. In a thundering voice, echoing off into the distance of the night, Severus chanted the translation.

Slowly the touch bearers moved--one by one--until the twelve stood semi-circled around a large cache of boulders that seemed to have fallen naturally down the side of the hill. Then, suddenly, in the empty space between the ring of 12 and the boulders, a shape appeared like the flicker of a bat wing in the hidden shadows of the night. Emerging from the foggy shadows in a defiant flair of flowing robes, Lord Voldemort appeared. From the background of the night an almost inaudible gasp escaped from those gathered to the sides. Thirteen now stood before the cache of stone.

With a thin profane hand, The Dark Lord motioned several robed figures forward, pitting his minion's strength against the huge stones that had lain in place at the base of the hill nearly twenty years. They had nearly become part of the earth again.

"No magic," he hissed quietly and stood back with a thin lipless smirk on his face, amused no doubt at watching them struggle to move the massive rocks.

Then, as the rocks shifted, the very hill exhaled a shuttering breath. A burst of foul air rushed forth; a Dragon's Breath of vapor, which swirled and rose out as the tunnel breathed once more to life.

The twelve guards, torches held high, followed Voldemort into the dank interior of the exposed shaft. Severus joined the procession, flanked by two Death Eaters he knew to be Goyle and Macnair by their shapes. Between the two of them they carried an iron tripod from which hung the polished silver cauldron full of a steaming liquid.

"Spill any of it and he'll kill you," Severus snarled before stepping through the trilithon archway formed by three great stones, which lead back into the darkness of the hillside.

The air Severus breathed was stale and damp inside his nostrils as the procession reached the hollow of the hill, but it hardly mattered. He barely noticed it now. Twenty years ago he had stood like those behind him, blinded by the power offered him. He hadn't noticed much about this hill then and he doubted any of them did now, feeling only the power being wielded around them--the same power that had been promised once again.

How much more power would he have had today if he had taken heed of the chill and foul air and walked away from it all. The power over his own life. The power of love, give freely by a woman. The power to pass down the legacy of his knowledge to a daughter. The power of choice. Voldemort would again offer a choice to the future Death Eaters walking to him through the shaft and into the inner chamber, their footsteps echoing hollow on the stone blocks around them.

As his eyes adjusted to the light of the unsteady flames, Severus saw the back of the stone-lined chamber along which loomed a great altar of black polished rock. Against it, he could make out the thin silhouette of Voldemort, now unmoving in the mysterious gloom. Motioning the cauldron bearers to follow him Severus walked slowly to the side of the altar and silently directed them to set it down next to Voldemort.

With a quick flick of his wand, Severus conjured a blue white blaze beneath the steaming cauldron. The silver reflective surface sent shafts of unleashed light in all directions, momentarily blinding those gathered around Voldemort. As Severus stepped back, Voldemort spoke with a voice that brought a seldom-felt chill to his skin.

"My followers," he said with a vehement passion. "This night our world will begin again. Tonight we call to us the power to shape our way of life into the reality we desire. It has been said that what I offer is only a madman's dream. Tonight I act to preserve that dream--our dream for a future generation. The purity of our treasured gift must be preserved, and preserve it I will. I shall place within our fold the power that has been denied to us for a thousand years. Stand forth now and Join with me or leave now to be left behind and perish."

Severus waited and watched as the morbid scene unfolded before him. None present moved; each man and woman stood with maniacal determination, each ready to follow the Dark Lord's commands. He knew no one would leave at this point. To do so would invite instant death, or worse--the Cruciatus. Voldemort wielded this curse relentlessly, ensuring the unquestioning loyalty of his followers. Severus had prayed for death to release him from the agony inflicted by the Cruciatus. No, Voldemort made sure no one left the fold.

With all eyes focused on him, Voldemort drew from within his robes a knife whose obsidian black blade shown in stark relief against Voldemort's wax-white hands. Holding his arms high, his loose robe sleeves slipping down his thin bare arms, he gripped the blade tightly in his right hand and pressed its tip into his rice-paper skin, cutting a deep line down his forearm from his wrist to the crook of his arm. Lowering the arm, Voldemort's skin and muscle split open and blood welled up, running in rivulets down his slender, bony fingers. Holding his hand over the cauldron, he allowed his blood to flow freely into the potion for several silent moments, causing it to burn red and froth like acid.

Stepping forward, Severus reached stoically for the Dark Lords arm. Opening the jar of ointment he had prepared for the ceremony, he deftly covered the slash with a layer of the medicinal salve stopping the flow of blood with its coagulating properties. Then, with skill born from years of practice, he tightly bandaged the arm with strips of linen removed from the satchel at his side. There would be no healing magic tonight, only the dark magic wielded by Voldemort was allowed.

Without even a glance at Severus, Voldemort took one step forward, cupped his hands, dipped them into the cauldron and then slowly lifted the boiling liquid to his lips. Drinking deeply from the potion, he turned to face the group again. With his wide, livid red eyes now glass-like and fixed, he rigidly untied a blue leather pouch at his side and extracted a handful of green powder, which he then held out towards the cauldron reciting in a voice half-spoken, half-sung:

Uncurling his fingers, he blew the powder into the cauldron; within an instant, hot air currents exploded up toward the rock-hewed ceiling in a cascade of green sparks which gathered together in mid-air, forming the glittering outline of a human skull.

As the skull glowed above, illuminating the chamber around them, Voldemort's guard of twelve positioned themselves in a circle around him. Dipping his hands into the cauldron, he repeatedly approached the torchbearers and allowed each in turn to drink from his blistered hands. Completing the circle, he once again withdrew the obsidian dagger and stood in the middle as each came forward offering a bared arm to their Lord. With the blade of black glass Voldemort cut each man's left forearm, leaving a small two-inch laceration free to well with blood. Slowly those remaining came forward, each in turn drinking from Voldemort's red and raw scalded hands, each baring a left arm to his blade.

Voldemort spoke deliberately raising his voice so that all might hear. "Our task remains unfinished, our final battle unwaged! Our time to pass in peace among the Mudbloods and Muggles is over, the hour is upon us. Hear my children, Join with me rule with me."

Moving from the center point of the ring, going forward from man to man he arranged his twelve torch bearers in three concentric circles outward, each tangent with the center altar stone. Returning to stand beside the altar, he glanced around to inspect the human sculpture he had created.

"Know you all the Ancient Magic we do here...three, four, five! The inner Circle of Gwynn, three the number--the three principles of worldly manifestation; Birth, Life and Death, may His Hounds of Hell be at our call! The mid circle of Bran, four in number as are the great divisions of the physical world; North, South, East, and West, you ride. On Darkest Samhain, night of dread, Mighty Bran of the sacred head may his immortal presents everywhere protect us as we strike our first blow. The outer circle of Ceugant, five in number as are the divisions of nature; Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Spirit, may the properties of each Join us. And at the center of our web: the thirteenth of our number, the duel wielder of darkness and light. Unaffected, yet attuned to all that surrounds us the beginning and the end--the central point, which begets and swallows everything. I stand and lead you."

Again Severus knew what was to come. He watched as Voldemort added the remaining properties to the potion. Elements that Severus had provided for him to use once again to Join the followers around him. Swallowing hard, he choked down the bile he felt rising into his throat as the last of the ingredients were tipped into the silver cauldron.

"And now, companions," Voldemort said, opening his arms wide, like a spider reaching for his prey, "we stand ready to Join, to form the mighty Web of Gwynn which will carry us, the guardians of magic, safely beyond the confines of this hill. All others who wish to be Joined stand now among those chosen before you and connect with them arm to arm, hand to hand. Do it now!"

Only those branded before dared enter the web of thirteen. The rest now came forward, filling in silently behind the standing circles of torchlight until the hollow of the hill was spun in a giant living snare of hands and limbs and evil hearts.

Severus could feel the immense power channeling through the center, through a circuitry of human arms joined inseparable under one will--and that will was Voldemort's, the power and force behind the Dark Magic being wielded here tonight. Removing the Book of Pheryllt from his satchel, he placed it on the altar and moved to join the human web around him. Placing his own branded arm on the shoulder of a torchbearer in the first circle, Severus stood ready, bracing himself for what would follow.

The hooded figure he touched turned to him and briefly tilted his head back, allowing the torchlight to illuminate the face within the hood. Smiling out calmly from its depths was a youthful face, gray gleaming eyes sharp with excitement. Draco smiled as recognition passed between the two men, confirming what Severus suspected Draco knew all along. Hood or no hood, most present here knew Severus Snape was the only man alive who could brew this potion, and knew it was he who had been at Voldemort's side.

Voldemort had returned to the altar and opened the ancient book, studying with grave attention leaf after leaf of the yellowed pages. Seeming to finally find what he sought, Voldemort's scalded, blistered fingers traveled up and down the pages time and time again, his thin lips mouthing, practicing, balancing the strange ancient words inaudibly to himself. Then, closing the book he turned, raising his fisted arms high into the air and breathed deeply, drawing in the vapors rolling from the cauldron before him.

He intoned the spell loudly over and over, the mysterious phrase echoing around him, until the living web surrounding him picked up the words. Soon the words rippled out in layers of sound beneath the cavern rocks...building...rising, high and low...falling back and forth, calling outward, calling!

The very air itself began to grow heavy prickling with magic, the burnt copper taste of blood permeating it. Rumbling, the cauldron liquid began to boil over vaporizing as it hit the blue flames below. The potion became a legion of vaporous scarlet serpents, slithering in slow, dense belts between the standing wizards and witches, enveloping them in the coils.

Severus breathed as deeply as possible, shutting out the unwanted sight and sounds. Snaking around him the coils churned and crushed until his head spun in dizzying circles and his lungs cried out for air. Grinding his teeth together, he locked his jaw tight to stop himself from crying out as the Skull on his arm burned like hell-fire. All around him in painful detail, voices screamed out as the vapor made contact with their carved forearms, binding them to Voldemort with the Death Head mark.

Through sheer force of will he stood upright, refusing to fall in agony to the ground. To do so would invite more than humiliation from Voldemort. Those within the inner circle dare not fall.

Through the haze of suffering that surrounded him, Severus watched as Draco's hand began to drop, the torch he held faltering and wavering side to side as his conscious state began to slip away.

Slowly Severus' arm pushed out from the coils around him and with his free hand steadied the young man, grabbing him under the arm helping to keep him on his feet. Keeping him alive. Then at last, when it seemed he could stand no more, the voice of Voldemort flashed suddenly out through the current of pain, calling out over the chanting multitude.

"WE CALL UPON THE FORCE OF NIGHT--COME FOREMOST SPIRIT OF GREAT BRAN-- JOIN US--BIND US--PROTECT US."

In an instant rush of a whirling vacuum, the slithering vapors, companions of Bran, withdrew themselves from around their suffocating victims and rose to blend with the green glowing human skull above. Everything--the vapor, the motions, the pain and the fire--vanished leaving an empty silver caldron, the sounds of gasping, panting Death Eaters and the Dark Mark of Voldemort.

Five of the fifty-three Death Eaters lay on the cavern floor. One Death Eater standing within the circle of torchbearers had fallen as well. Resisting the impulse to close his eyes, Severus watched as Voldemort walked with wand drawn toward the prone man. His hood had fallen back revealing the aged and weathered face of Macnair.

Healthy, youthful and strong, Severus had barely withstood the agonizing process of the Joining. Aged and poor in health, Macnair laid there sweating profusely, his eyes glazed with pain. "Avada Kedavra." Voldemort spoke the words with disdain, as though he was doing the man a favor. As the green flash faded from Severus' retinas he could see that Macnair's glazed eyes no longer reflected pain. The blank sockets reflected only the torchlight of Voldemort's Guards.

Turning, he left the inner circles, walking slowly to a group of three who had fallen as well, their faces clearly exposed to all. Struggling to gain their feet, two Death Eaters managed to rise and stand before Voldemort reached them. The third Death Eater, a young woman whom Severus recognized as a former Hufflepuff student, continued to lay in the dirt, sobbing at the Dark Lord's feet.

"My dear--do you think your master so cruel that you continue to lie there begging at my feet?" Taking her by the hand he helped her stand up and continued to hold it as he hypnotically hissed soft shushing noises, lulling her into a complaisant whimper.

Turning to the two men who had fallen with her, he raised his wand and with a casual loop of the wrist spoke the word "Crucio." The Death Eaters collapsed on the ground, writhing and shrieking in agony as an all-consuming pain filled every inch of their being.

His mouth drew up into a parody of a smile and he looked once more at the woman whose hand he still held. She reeled back from Voldemort, trying to pull lose from his python-like grip, but he held fast, pulling her into him, coiling his free arm quickly around her.

"The power is mine you know--the power to stop their pain. All you need to do is ask it of me."

Terrified beyond words, the woman nodded her head yes again and again, unable to break the connection with which Voldemort's scarlet eyes held her.

Removing his wand from the men, the curse came to an end, leaving them crying and gasping for breath upon the ground.

Severus knew the young girl had not escaped punishment. Voldemort took great joy in toying with his victims. He couldn't help wondering what she was doing here and who had brought her? How had any of them ended up here at all? Watching from under his hood, his eyes followed Voldemort's path as he walked slowly to the remaining two who had also fallen.

With her wrist still in the Dark Lord's hand, the young woman stumbled behind him like a lamb being led to slaughter. Stopping before the men, Voldemort once more lifted his wand and this time with the power and strength of venom shouted the word "Crucio!" Dropping to the ground with shrieks of terror the two men convulsed and shuddered, their bodies snapping back and forth like prey in the mouths of wolves.

Severus could only watch as the girl--Julie, her name was Julie --struggled again to pull free of Voldemort and away from the torment of the men before her. Tightening his hold, Voldemort once more pulled her swiftly to him, pressing her into his chest. Severus heard him speak the words "stay with me tonight," and then watched in disgust as a narrow tongue poked out to wet his scaled, cracked lips.

"Stay with me tonight, and I will spare them as well," he repeated, eyes red-round and unblinking in the flickering torchlight.

The agonizing cries of the two had reached a crescendo that reverberated throughout the hollow of the hill. Looking in desperation at them, Julie turned to face the composed, questioning gaze of Lord Voldemort. Frantically, she nodded her head yes.

The curse subsided as Lord Voldemort lifted his wand and returned it to the lining of his splendid robes. Releasing his tight hold on the woman, he reached out to cup her chin with a hand still wet with potion, its raw flesh oozing liquid from the open blisters of its scalded fingers. Pulling her mouth to his he kissed her lips with a gentle brush of his own and released her completely.

"Acts of compassion and self-sacrifice have no place in a Death Eater's life. Avada Kedavra."

Severus didn't even see Voldemort pull his wand. The only thing he saw was the look of utter shock and denial on the woman's face. Without a sound, she crumpled to the ground, eyes as cold and lifeless as the laugh issuing from Voldemort's mouth.