Death Before Dishonor

DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR

Chapter Twenty: Midnight

The Three Broomsticks had already turned into a shelter. The front room was crammed with witches and wizards seeking haven from the sudden attack. All those who could reach the inn had, and those unfortunates who could not would no longer be able to enter through the multitude of wards the occupants had hastily erected. There was screaming outside, and the group of witches and wizards who had made it to the Three Broomsticks was grim. Venturing outside would only mean death came sooner, and no one believed in the illusion of survival. They knew what was happening. And they knew there was no help coming.

The last thing the Three Broomsticks needed was for people to come popping out of its fireplace. No one had thought to disconnect the Three Broomsticks from the Floo Network; these were townspeople, craftsmen, and innocents. Most had not ever attended a formal school of magic like Hogwarts and had learned their magic through apprenticeship or experience. They weren´t trained for this. So, it was rather understandable that people started screaming when the first man rolled out of the fireplace. By the time Arabella emerged, they´d quieted; either calmed by Remus´ reassuring words or Sirius´ eerie concentration (but she doubted Snape´s angry presence had anything to do with the occupants´ emotional reversal). She glanced at her surroundings quickly, noting that all the tables had been shoved to one side of the room to form a barrier between the children--there aren´t nearly enough of them here!--and the front door. The fireplace they´d all shot out of was behind that barrier, too. No wonder why the people had been frightened.

She glanced at her companions, and found Remus speaking quietly to Madam Rosmerta, Sirius staring outside from between the cracks of a hastily boarded up window, and Snape conspicuously trying not to clutch at his left forearm as he paced away from the fireplace. She wished he´d be a bit less obvious about it, but Arabella supposed that the Mark had to be burning like mad. Although she´d never known Snape well, personally speaking, she knew plenty about the surface he projected. Once, she´d been the lead in an investigation of Severus Snape, only to have her knees cut out from under her by the Ministry with no explanation. Only now, years later, would she understand why, and it was nice to know that Albus Dumbledore was still such a good judge of character.

It wasn´t a surprise to see Sirius immediately take charge. The kid that no one had wanted as an Auror had rocketed through the Department´s ranks once his natural leadership ability had been discovered, especially given his inborn strength. He and James Potter had been the rising stars of their generation, best friends...and both destroyed by tragedy. Or very nearly destroyed, in Sirius´ case, and Arabella had thought, until this moment, that he had been. She´d only spoken to him briefly after her arrival, and had met a very quiet man who was busy swallowing the rush of events--an article revealing some of his past, the Dementors´ newfound freedom, and Alastor´s death. Alastor, of course, had been his mentor, the one who had demanded that Sirius be allowed to enter the Auror training program--and the only one of them who could ever match the effortless power and destruction Sirius Black could bring to bear on Death Eaters.

Even Potter hadn´t been like that. Oh, in terms of sheer power, James had probably been stronger, but as an Auror, sheer power simply wasn´t enough. James had been an excellent all-around wizard. Sirius had a flair for the Dark Arts, and for fighting them. It was no wonder people hadn´t been too surprised to hear Sirius called Voldemort´s heir. He had the power... And somewhat surprisingly, it seemed he still had the wit to use it. "Arabella?"

"Hum?" Her old friend´s brightest pupil was standing in front of her. Oh, Alastor...where have we gone? You´re dead, yet the brilliant boy you mentored remains, while my best student lies dead. She and Sirius had mainly known each other because of James Potter. Her student. His best friend.

"I want you to stay here. Start evacuating these people to Hogwarts. Hold while you can, but don´t wait more than forty minutes for us," Sirius said briskly. "We´ll split up and see who else we can find before the Death Eaters kill them."

"Oh?" she challenged, staring the younger man down. "It´s not a bad idea, expect for wherever you get the idea that I´ll be the one staying here. I´ve more experience than either of these two."

Snape´s dark eyebrows rose as he glanced her way. "More experience in what? Killing people or avoiding having Voldemort kill you?"

"He´s got you there," Remus replied lightly. Even given the desperation of the situation, he seemed relaxed. She barely knew Remus Lupin, but her estimation of him went up a few notches, seeing the calm on his face.

Arabella screwed up her face to reply, but Sirius beat her to it. "No time for arguments," he said quietly. "I´m thinking in terms of respective strengths, and you´re best suited to saving these people. The three of us are more used to creating problems than solving them."

"That´s a very polite way to avoid mentioning that I´m old, Sirius." She smiled.

"Never crossed my mind." He had the good grace not to laugh.

"Sure it didn´t," Arabella snorted. And he´s right, so why beat a dead horse into the ground? I am old, and I ache like hell. Thanks, Malfoy. "Let´s get this done."

----------------------

If I could be doing something stupider, I can´t think of what.

Snape crouched behind the Post Office, scowling to himself. His non-Slytherin students often claimed that the Potions master hated the world, and at the moment, they couldn´t have been closer to the truth. Damn Voldemort. If the situation wasn´t bad enough in itself--Death Eaters crawling all over Hogsmeade and taking out targets of opportunity with gleeful smiles on their faces--Voldemort was there. He could feel it. The Dark Lord hadn´t been on the map--or Guide, whatever it was called--the last time Snape had looked at it, but he could feel him. The Mark was burning as if his arm was going to fall of. That might be an improvement.

Screams.

He crept forward, slipping down an alley and approaching the third house on the left. It looked as if the Death Eaters had been working their way down the street, simply hitting house after house as they went. Most of the houses were still occupied. Those that couldn´t make it to the Three Broomsticks were simply trying to ride it out in their own homes, keeping their heads down and hoping the destruction would pass. Fools. They just didn´t get it. Voldemort wasn´t after anyone in particular. Fear was his goal. Fear started with destroying Hogsmeade. Bastard. Many teams of Death Eaters were roaming the village at will, killing and torturing to their black hearts´ content. They knew no one would stop them. Who was there to do so? The Ministry? Snape snorted. That was hardly likely, especially considering the crisis that Fudge´s cowardice had caused. The only people able to stand up to this kind of onslaught would be a virtual company of Aurors, and with the Ministry´s disarray, that wasn´t about to happen.

So the people of Hogsmeade were left with an old woman, a werewolf, an ex-convict, and a former Death Eater. How colorful.

The houses he passed already existed under the Dark Mark. There was nothing he could do for them. But perhaps he could save these people--Snape pulled a vial out of his robes. Thankfully, he´d had the presence of mind to bring a few necessary potions along. They´d certainly be more useful than most of the offensive magic he knew; he was, after all, most practiced in the Dark Arts when it came to attacking people, even if he wasn´t very proud of that fact. He didn´t like Dark Magic; he was just good at it. And he wasn´t very experienced in fighting Death Eaters, for obvious reasons--but he could predict them.

He popped the cork out of the vial, but was careful to keep his finger over the top. It wouldn´t do to have his own potion knock him out, and Snape had no intention of falling into Voldemort´s compassionate hands in that manner. Maybe another day, thanks. He shook the vial, stirring the potion expertly, as he approached the front door. It hadn´t even been closed, which told him his former colleagues certainly weren´t expecting resistance. Good. Moving silently, he slipped inside, heading in the direction of the screams. There were two different voices, two sets of screams. They alternated, so the Death Eaters were taking turns. How thoughtful of them.

He ended up in the living room; the couple had taken refuge in the kitchen, though why he did not know. They certainly could have picked a more defensible place...if they´d even thought about trying to fight, that was. Perhaps they hadn´t. This couple wouldn´t be the first. Snape grimaced, and tried to pretend that he didn´t know the masked figures, hadn´t once thought of them as colleagues. He could identify each from form or voice, knew their styles and knew their powers. A quick count revealed that there were only three of them, which meant there were countless other groups wandering around the helpless village. Another fresh bout of screaming. They´d started on the husband again, while the wife lay gasping on the floor. They were both relatively young, probably not graduates of Hogwarts--he´d have recognized them, then, and he didn´t--Innocents caught on a battleground no one thought to defend, he thought angrily. He was partially at fault for that, as much as anyone else, Snape knew. It was just that no one ever thought Voldemort would go so far.

He whipped his arm forward, releasing the vial in a perfect underhanded toss. It hit the ground and shattered immediately, but Snape did not see it fall. He too concerned with diving behind a nearby bookshelf and holding his breath--Three, the Potions master counted. Two... The Death Eaters were speaking, trying to figure out what was going on, where the strange yellow smoke had come from. One!

Suddenly, there were no more voices. Only a set of three thuds, as the Death Eaters hit the floor, unconscious. Unfortunately, he was sure that the potion had also knocked out the witch and wizard who were now silent on the kitchen floor, but there was no helping that. Instead of immediately moving to help them, though, Snape carefully counted to thirty, staying precisely where he was. Then he rose, confident that the potion´s effects had cleared--smoking potions were ever so useful--he entered the kitchen, stepping over a comatose Death Eater as he went. These two would be out of play for at least an hour, after which he didn´t care what they did. Snape supposed he could have eliminated them then, and done the world a service, but he could not bring himself to kill them in cold blood, and knew that Dumbledore would never ask it of him. Sometimes, it was a huge relief to be on the right side.

He bent first over the wife and mumbled, "Ennervate." Immediately, she started to twitch awake, but Snape didn´t have the time to watch her. He quickly crossed to the wizard and did the same, then strode back out into the hall to make sure no one had followed him in. By the time he returned to the kitchen, they were both up and clinging to one another. Both gave a start of fear as he came back.

"It´s all right," Snape said quickly. "I´m a friend." How ironic, but true.

"Who are you?" the witch asked quietly.

"Severus Snape," he replied. The pain in both sets of wide eyes made him uneasy, but he could not afford to cast healing spells over either one of them. He´d have plenty need of all his strength later. "I am a professor at Hogwarts."

At least that seemed to relieve them. A little. But both were still frightened. They had every right to be. The wizard asked timidly, "What´s going on?"

"The village is under attack," Snape scowled. "Come with me."

"But why?" the woman whispered.

"There is no why," the Potions master snarled. "It´s Voldemort. Now come."

----------------------

His mind whirled, catalogued. His eyes swept over the group of Death Eaters, recognizing those he could, and noting those he could not. There were five of them, standing together and laughing with delight at the figures screaming on the ground. One of their victims no longer moved, leading Sirius to assume he was dead. Macnair and Dolohov, he thought coldly to himself. You I know. The woman in the center looked too young for him to have faced before, but she looked familiar enough, which made Sirius think that she had been at the Ministry. Perhaps she had been one of Malfoy´s followers that day, one of the ones he had knocked unconscious. It was possible. But the next two figures made his blood run cold.

Marcia and Alden Lestrange.

Sirius did not fear them; he feared what their presence signified. He knew Voldemort had taken Azkaban, but his first thoughts had been of what would happen when the Dementors were unleashed on the public. The ex-Auror hadn´t stopped to think that his old prison mates would now be free to roam the Wizarding world, sanity notwithstanding. He didn´t think that anyone released from Azkaban would come out of it sane for quite some time--but then again, Sirius doubted that Voldemort cared. Lovely. They were always homicidal maniacs; now they´ve got sixteen years of payback to get started on.

And I have people to save. Four of their victims were still screaming, and two of them were children. The other two Sirius recognized as Zonko, the owner of a store Sirius had once frequented more than any other, and his wife. Both were wonderful, and innocent, people. He wondered if the dead body had been a friend of theirs. He hoped the children were not their own. Sirius leaned further around the corner of Zonko´s shop. All four were screaming. He took a deep breath, cleared his mind and focused on drawing all the power he could into his spell work. This would require a great deal of that--and speed.

"Stupefy!"

Three were down: the unknown woman and the Lestranges. In truth, that was the best he could have expected, since he didn´t have a good enough angle on Macnair or Dolohov to hit them with enough force. Both conscious Death Eaters, however, staggered when struck by the fringes of his attack, and both spun towards where Sirius had been, taking their concentration off of their victims. Red light flashed, and a corner of the joke shop exploded, but Sirius was no longer there. He was diving, rolling to his right, opening up the engagement zone and putting the Death Eaters between himself and the Zonkos. He´d have preferred to work it the other way around, but at least he had the Death Eaters´ attention.

"Conjunctivitus!" Macnair went for the eyes. Typical.

"Petrificius Totalus!" Dolohov tried a body bind, which was more interesting, but no more effective. Sirius batted both aside with ease as he came up into his traditional dueling crouch.

"Offenvox!" he cried.

Both Death Eaters reacted as if they´d just been zapped with a few volts of Muggle electricity--which, Sirius supposed, they really had been. Macnair and Dolohov collapsed to the ground, but the ex-Auror didn´t give them time to twitch and contemplate their misery. "Stupefy!"

He sprinted towards the Zonkos, even as Mr. Zonko tried to lever himself upwards. Still in motion, Sirius cast a quick diagnostic spell, and could feel the Cruciatus curse resonating from all four of them. With a heavy heart, he also realized that the fifth figure--a child of no more than six--was dead. The others were in pain, but were still coherent. "Mr. Zonko?"

"You know me?" the man blinked.

"No time for that now." Sirius helped the older man to his feet. "You can walk?"

Zonko nodded, and Sirius turned his attention to the joke shop owner´s family.

----------------------

Normally, Remus was rather fond of plants. He enjoyed gardening, loved to watch flowers, fruits, and vegetables grow; but at the moment, he´d have given a great deal to be anywhere but in the middle of a magical garden with...personality. Muggle plants were wonderful creations, and magical plants were supposed to be the exact same thing, but magically "altered" plants were something else altogether. They moved and they danced. They wanted to be talked to and petted. They got in the way and tried to grab your ankles as you walked past. They made obscure little plant noises when ignored and didn´t seem to understand the English language well enough to shut up. They were, well, for lack of a better word, magical. Most importantly, though, they were a pain in the arse. Especially right now.

Remus threw off another vine as a rosebush reached out to touch him. Although he scowled, he didn´t dare speak, even if he was fairly sure there was no one close enough to hear him. That simply wasn´t a chance worth taking. He´d rather suffer the plants than endanger innocents through discovery.

Finally, he slipped through the greenhouse door. At the time, entering the building through the back way (or the greenhouse in this case), had seemed like a fabulous idea. What wizard would bother to walk through a humongous greenhouse when the front door could be unlocked with a word? Why not do the unexpected and thus gain the element of surprise? It had seemed simple. It had been, in fact, too simple. Why not go through the greenhouse? Because it´s full of man-eating plants, you fool! In fairness to the local fauna, they probably didn´t want to eat him. They just wanted to be his friend. Swell, the werewolf thought to himself. Maybe I´ll come back later and make friends. After I´m finished avoiding around seventy Death Eaters, that is. He glanced at the Gatekeeper´s Guide again, frowning slightly. Typical of Sirius to make him take the thing, when Sirius would undoubtedly end up in more trouble than Remus could even dream of creating. Sirius just had that talent.

Concentrate! He´d have yelled at himself, but that would have probably gotten the attention of the quiet looking tree he presently stood next to. So far, it was the only plant in the place that hadn´t greeted him with one hundred percent enthusiasm, and Remus was keen to keep things that way. He´d had it with plants. What would a primary school want with a greenhouse this size, anyway? Remus sighed. "Inquireum en Protegeus Veritas."

Dozens of dots concealed in one spot on the Guide. Although the Guide wasn´t nearly as detailed as the Marauder´s Map (there were simply places in Hogsmeade that he and Sirius didn´t know well enough to draw out precisely), it could tell him who and where people were. At the moment, though, he didn´t have a chance in identifying all the different dots´ identities; the dots were stacked on top of one another and impossible to read. However, he could guess that there were something between fifty and eighty people in that area, and it did not take a genius to guess what most of them were. Cold anger wormed its way into Remus´ belly. Children. Perhaps a few teachers, but mostly children.

Most people never realized that there was a magical primary school located in Hogsmeade. Then again, most witches and wizards did not look at Hogsmeade as another other than the only Wizarding town in Britain, a wonderful place to shop and an exciting place to visit. But it was a true community, inhabited by families and children. Not all those children, unfortunately, had the talents to attend Hogwarts when they came of age; most would simply learn a trade and carry on the day-to-day business of Hogsmeade. Such a fact never occurred to most magical folk (including Remus, before he and Sirius had started thinking about what might happen if Hogsmeade was attacked), but it was true. And the children who couldn´t attend Hogwarts had to learn the basics somewhere. Hence the existence of Madam Chesserie´s Magical Primary School.

Hence Remus´ presence in its abominable greenhouse.

"Alohomora." The door slid open, and the werewolf moved swiftly through the school. The teachers had clearly recognized the threat; even though Death Eaters had not yet come close to the school, the students and teachers were gathered in the main building´s hall, a central area with no doors leading to outside. They could shelter there for as long as it took for the Death Eaters to break through the wards that blocked entrance to the doors--which, Remus realized upon reaching those selfsame doors, weren´t very good. He glanced at the map one last time. Every dot in the school was still gathered in the main hall. Good. Taking a deep breath, the history professor readied a shield charm for himself and raised his wand.

The wards came down within seconds, and Remus slipped through the door. He´d barely had it closed behind himself before he threw himself sideways, watching a score of magic strike the spot he had occupied less than a second before. Hastily, he rolled left, automatically coming up in an offensive stance, but thinking the better of it.

"Wait!" he cried.

Frightened faces stared at him. Some children were crying; the oldest in the bunch couldn´t yet be fifteen. A few adults were scattered around the hall, mostly in between Remus and the students. They looked ready to kill. Cautiously, the professor held his wand away from his body, well aware that it could be the last thing he ever did, but he needed these people to trust him. Having to fight them off wasn´t a way to start that. I´d have knocked first if I thought they´d listen, he thought ruefully. But in their place, I wouldn´t have opened the door, either. No one spoke. They all just stared, teachers and older students with wands out and ready.

"My name is Remus Lupin," he said calmly. "I am a professor at Hogwarts. I am here to help you."

Silence. For a moment, Remus began to fear that they wouldn´t believe him. How can I save them despite themselves? Finally, a gray haired wizard towards at the front spoke.

"Hogwarts?" Remus nodded. "Why should we believe you?"

Good question. The werewolf looked him in the eye. "The only proof I can give you is through saving your lives."

The teachers exchanged glances, but it was the gray haired man who nodded. "I suppose we have no choice but to trust you. My name is Hamish Stakespole. I run the school. What do you want us to do?"

"How many of you are there?" Remus´ mind was spinning.

"Sixty-two children, ranging from seven to thirteen. Ten teachers."

"We have to get you all to the Three Broomsticks," Remus explained. "It´s an evacuation point. From there we´ll take you to Hogwarts. You will be safe there."

"But we can´t leave," a red-haired teacher said nervously. "They´ll find us..."

Others were nodding in agreement. The smell of fear in the room was nauseating. These were corned and desperate people, too frightened to make a run for it. There was doubt even in Stakespole´s eyes, and the man looked old enough to have known better. "Look," Remus said sternly. "I broke through your wards. So will Death Eaters. We have to leave now."

----------------------

Arabella looked up as Sirius brought two adults and two children inside the Three Broomsticks. Her fingers danced over the piece of parchment lying on the table in front of her; it was her key, and with it, she checked to make sure all her wards were still in place. Good. Just to be sure, though, she checked it again. She, with the help of the other adults in the Three Broomsticks, had erected six layers of wards around the inn, none of which would hold under determined assault, but all of which would slow attackers down. Unlike many others, these wards were deadly, not because Arabella liked to kill, but because she had no time for niceties. Thus, it was extremely important that she lower them for friends, which she did by touching the crude drawing before her. It was easier when she could visualize her work.

Sirius was carrying one of the children, and the older wizard seemed to be half dragging another one. All four of Sirius´ evacuees looked horrible, and Arabella wouldn´t have to have ever been an Auror to recognize the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. Others within the Three Broomsticks immediately rushed to help, and she watched Sirius hand the little girl over with care. Behind her, she heard Madam Rosmerta´s voice as the inn´s proprietor calmly directed the other refugees into the fireplace at a very precise rate of one every fifteen seconds. That was the shortest time delay they dared to use, especially given the fact that Hogwarts wasn´t really part of the Floo Network; only an age-old special understanding between the owners of the Three Broomsticks and Albus Dumbledore permitted this connection at all. The inn was about half as full as it once had been, now, but Arabella knew that time was growing short.

"How many?" she asked as Sirius approached.

"I knocked out a total of six on High Street, and another five outside of Zonko´s," the other replied evenly. Arabella stared at him, though, wondering if he knew how truly extraordinary that was. "No kills."

She arched one eyebrow. While Arabella did not agree with the Aurors´ "extended" powers, she knew that there were times when killing was necessary--and if there ever was one, this was it. Then again, she knew Sirius´ service record, and knew that he had killed in the past, albeit rarely, so she doubted it was squeamishness that stopped him. Rather, she suspected that had come from his rush to save all those he could instead of eliminate every Death Eater he came across. In the future, the live enemies he left behind might become a liability, but he was right. They were there to save people, not to kill. "Excellent."

"Did the others get through?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Yes." Arabella nodded. "Why didn´t you come with them, to lead them through? I might not have taken the wards down, you know, and that would have been disastrous."

"There wasn´t time," the other replied. "And there isn´t now. Is everything going all right?"

"It is. You´re the first one back, though."

One black eyebrow arched elegantly. "I am?"

"Yes."

"I´ll go see what I can find out, then." Sirius turned to go, still moving with athleticism and grace, and Arabella suddenly realized that he´d managed to do everything he had without gaining a scratch.

"I didn´t mean it that way," Arabella said admonishingly. He was too much like his teacher. Alastor Moody would also have wandered back out into the dark.

"I know you didn´t."

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Snape led his group towards the Three Broomsticks at a fast jog, running parallel to High Street but not daring to go any closer to it. The night sky was beginning to glow green; even he had never seen so many Dark Marks hovering together. Voldemort meant business. Behind him, he heard a sudden gasp, and turned in time to see the first woman he rescued go down, dragging her husband down with her. Cursing, Snape stopped and headed towards them. "Anna?" the husband was gasping. "Anna?!"

Snape bent down as he reached the couple´s side. He was extremely conscious of the group gathering around them; so far, he had managed to save seventeen people from the houses on the street by the Post Office, and he knew he didn´t have much time if he was going to save them. None of them were hurt yet, simply because he´d stopped the team of Death Eaters who were working that street. Those young fools had taken more time than they should have, had enjoyed the torture they were causing too much. That had meant only six had died--but those deaths still burned shamefully inside Severus Snape. He knew he couldn´t save them all, but he had to try. There was so much he had to make up for----We don´t have time for this! he growled inwardly. The Three Broomsticks was within sight now, hardly a block away. He just had to get his charges to safety before anyone noticed that an entire lane of houses was empty.

"What is it?" he asked the husband.

"I don´t know," the wizard replied fretfully "She just stopped, then fell, and now she´s not answering...!"

"All right. Move."

Immediately, the wizard shifted to make room for Snape at his wife´s side. His brown eyes, however, watched the Potions master with fear, worried that his wife would not live. But Snape pushed his presence, and the others watching, out of his mind. He had to concentrate. It took only seconds to identify the problem--sheer fatigue and pain--but that made him scowl. "Ennervate."

Her eyes opened, full of pain and exhaustion. But Snape didn´t have time for compassion. He knew it wouldn´t be long now.

"Can you walk?" he asked immediately.

"No..." Anna whispered, and to Snape´s right, the husband made a sound of despair. Great. He laid a hand on her forehead, and ignored the wizard´s question about what he was doing.

"Adficios Vos." Weakness ripped through him, making Snape grimace, but he saw further awareness blossom in her eyes and saw the pain in them fade a little as he took it on to himself. She blinked, and stared at him gratefully; Snape struggled to keep a growl of impatience from escaping. He rose and held out a hand to help her. "Come on."

"Thank you," she whispered so honestly that he didn´t have the heart to tell her the effect would only last a little while. He just scowled and released her, only to have her husband grab his shoulder. A wave of pain ran through Snape. He hated the Strength Charm. Too bad he hadn´t had a restorative potion handy instead.

"What did you do?"

One acid glance was enough to make the other let him go. "I transferred some of my strength to her," he replied shortly. "It will only last a few hours, though."

"Why didn´t you do that before?" the wizard demanded angrily.

Snape scowled and snapped, "Because if we run into more Death Eaters, you can´t afford to have me at anything less than full strength!"

The other stared. Fool. He wasn´t worth wasting Snape´s time on, so the professor simply headed out once more, his every sense alert and searching for the enemies he knew would be coming. This was going too easily. Far too easily... Snape almost wished something would happen just so he could get it over with.

Within another ten steps, he got his wish.

Power laced through the air, and even as it smashed into the members of his small company, Snape realized that the next wave would be aimed at him. He hit the ground, rolling to the side, but still noticing that many of his charges were stupid enough to struggle immediately to their feet. They stood there, looking around, making themselves into big and beautiful targets. Damn fools. Snape scrambled upwards as the first of them fell, hating the tactical stupidity of his own move almost as much as he dreaded the necessity of doing so. "Get down!"

He was sure the Death Eaters would recognize his voice, even if they didn´t recognize the signature in the shield spell he rushed out to protect his charges. If they were slow enough to miss that, though, not a one of them could have missed the curse he aimed at their leader.

"Vulernocorpus!"

"Obfirmum!" a familiar voice cried even as the words left his mouth.

Pain tore through him, and suddenly his body would not respond to traditional commands. It was odd, really, how alike he and Lucius Malfoy could be at times; he´d tried a paralysis spell, while good old Lucius had aimed for a Dark body lock. Both had aimed to take out the body to disable the caster, and unfortunately, their reaction times were as similar as their thought processes. Snape knew from experience that Lucius would be the first to throw off the curse, but he also knew his old classmate would only beat him by seconds. Seconds, however, could mean death.

And so could the fact that Lucius had companions.

"Crucio!"

"Crucio!"

Crabbe and Goyle. It had to be. Neither of them was creative enough to think of anything else by themselves. But even as Snape screamed, he heard Lucius´ enraged voice. "He´s mine!"

Oh, shit. He twisted away the moment the curses stopped. Three against one were not good odds, even when two of them were stupider than Filch´s cat. Much stupider. The darkness, however, began to serve Snape well, and he knew that he had a few seconds in which to escape--if he wanted to leave innocents to suffer Malfoy´s wrath. I wish Black had killed you, he thought suddenly. I really do. Bastard. Even Severus Snape, however, could never know if the last though was directed at his old friend or at his old enemy. He jumped to his feet, bellowing at the witches and wizards he had promised to protect.

"Run!"

He didn´t have time to check if they listened or not. He was too occupied with Lucius Malfoy and the curses that began to cross through the air between them.

----------------------

"Are you an Auror?" Stakespole asked as they weaved through the sparse trees, Remus and the school´s headmaster in the lead.

"No," the werewolf replied with a forced smile, sniffing the air cautiously. Nothing obvious had changed, yet there was something... "My best friends were, though."

"Dead?" the old wizard asked with compassion.

"One of them." Something is not right.

"I´m sorry." Stakespole was a good man, Remus had learned, and a kind one. He actually meant it.

Me, too. Remus frowned. "I smell something."

"Smell something?"

Darkness. Death. Pain. Incoming! "Get down!"

Remus bolted forward, not needing to look at the Gatekeeper´s Guide. His footsteps carried him forward with inhuman speed; this was a time when the wolf and its abilities were useful. He knew who was coming, and knew he was rushing to his death, but there was no choice. He had to protect them. There were children behind him, innocent children--and Death Eaters ahead of him. He counted six masked forms...and one that was not. Voldemort.

Even as Remus brought his wand up, he knew it would be too late.

"Avada Kedavra!"
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Power crackled, and he barely had time to turn before he was struck by shooting and nerve-wrecking pain. Power guided his hands. "Econtra Cruci!"

Sirius jumped to his feet as the Cruciatus curse abruptly ended, not even taking the time to consider the fact that this was the first time he´d completely succeeded in using the counter curse he had recently taught his students about. He usually preferred more direct methods of dealing with attackers, but at the moment, this seemed to have worked, because no further attack came until he´d finished isolating his four attackers. Recognition suddenly flared in his mind, bringing cold fury with it. I know that one! However, he did not have time to raise a shield before the next curse struck

"Formidilosus!"

Fear washed over him, and even knowing that it was not his own made it hard to fight off. Terror of control, of pain, of death, or of imprisonment temporarily paralyzed his mind, concentrating his thoughts on all the horrible events that his future might hold. He remembered the torture he had experienced in the past, and knew that it was coming... He thought of being held by Dementors once more, having every happy thought sucked from his soul--he hardly heard the voice that cried, "Crucio!" and although Sirius registered the pain, it only amplified the fear that trapped his mind... He thought of dying like Lily and James, thought of Harry in Voldemort´s hands... Harry! Clarity crept in. Harry...Hogwarts...Hogsmeade! His mind cleared. The fear vanished.

Pain.

He was screaming. The Cruciatus curse. No, three of it--what was the forth Death Eater doing? His body was convulsing. There was no time to think, no time to wonder--Pain... Anger was the greatest multiplier of the Cruciatus curse. If the caster was angry, the curse became much, much stronger. Agony... Ruthlessly, he seized control of his senses. Sirius poured every bit of strength into fighting the urge to become oblivious, to become lost in the pain.

"Vindireperio!" he bellowed.

It stopped. They screamed. The spell had the desired effect: it had thrown the curses back at their casters. Ignoring the pain, Sirius clambered to his feet. There was still another Death Eater to deal with--instinct made Sirius throw himself to the right, avoiding a spell just as it sizzled through the air where his head had been. He rolled, trying to ignore how much it hurt to do so, and started to come to his feet again as four voices cried as one:

"Imperio!"

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Author´s Note: Sorry, I know it´s another cliffhanger--or two, anyway! It´s also the longest chapter in the story. I promise, however, to get Chapter 21 up very soon. Thanks for reading, as always, and please review! I´ll update soon, I promise!