Promises Defended

Promises Defended

Chapter Twenty: The Heirs Apparent

Dark clouds filled the sky, and lighting illuminated the dark-clad figure as he strode forward, casting strange shadows in his wake. The wind whipped at him like a child's kite, threatening to sweep him off of his feet and send him somewhere, anywhere in the sky. He staggered against the force, and then leaned forward into the weather, scowling slightly before stepping off.

A second figure appeared before he had moved three feet, making the first man stop in his tracks. He spun, his wand coming up fast and ready. Then a third appeared. And a fourth.

James Potter smiled. "Do you really think we'd let you do something so foolish on your own, mate?"

Black glared.

"Stupid decisions, after all, are best shared with friends," Remus Lupin added with a gentle smile.

"You shouldn't be here," Black finally growled, lowering his wand. "None of you should."

"Where else would we be?" Pettigrew asked quietly.

Severus' eyes flew open. He jerked back hard, hitting his head against the high-backed chair hard enough to daze himself, and had to bat mussed hair out of his eyes. He hadn't intended to fall asleep while at work--he never did--and why in the world had he dreamed about them? He didn't even have nightmares about those four, though he'd more than once thought he ought to.

As he leaned forward again, Remus' words came unbidden to mind.

"One of my most common visions is of a storm...of, I think, the end of the war." Something pained had flashed through Remus' eyes. "Or the end of something, anyway."

Severus blinked. Three days had passed since he'd entered the Font, and he'd not had even a single one of the visions Remus had been so sure he would experience. He'd even started to think--to hope?--that he would not have to share such talents, but what if this was...? The thought made him swallow unconsciously, and then twist his lip up in a scowl. Severus had spent his life as a skeptic, barely believing in even the most basic concepts of Divination, believing nothing more than the fact that prophecies happened. Visions were nothing.

Weren't they?

"You shouldn't be here," Black finally growled, lowering his wand. "None of you should."

"Where else would we be?" Pettigrew asked quietly.

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"Ready?" Alice asked, trying to keep the exhaustion and strain out of her voice. Frank, however, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, so the effort clearly had not worked.

"Let's go," he said softly, nodding the others forward. She managed a smile, just for him, but doing so was hard.

Getting to Azkaban had necessitated creativity beyond what the Aurors had used the last time out--then, they had been lucky enough to be able to borrow a magically-altered Muggle boat, but now they were not so lucky. And even if Fudge did have something of the sort, I'd not accept it, Alice thought darkly. Also, the same trick would not work twice, so the Aurors were forced to dredge a solution straight out of the bottom of the barrel.

A few more weeks of planning would have allowed them to come up with something better, but for now, this was the best Alice could do. Their way out was a bit more strategic, but it still wasn't something she would have chosen had there been any time to plan. Thanks, Fudge. You've managed to muck this one up in every possible way, haven't you? She tried not to growl under her breath, instead turning to look her team over one last time.

Twenty-one Aurors: all the division could spare, leaving only three behind on Avalon. Hestia, Jason, and Horace were a bit put out at being left behind, but someone had to mind the shop--and the new candidates. Hestia was an easy choice, seeing as how she was their new senior instructor, and Jason was one of her assistants along with being her student. Horace, on the other hand, just had a level head on his shoulders, so he was nominated when Alice could not afford to leave another fully trained Auror behind. There were hardly more full Aurors than there were trainees, and she was going to need all the help she could get.

Deep breath.

Alice lifted her wand, meeting Frank's eyes. As calm as he looked, she could see the tension in his shoulders, in the slight lines on his face. He was worried, too. So was everyone, for that matter. The Aurors knew exactly what they were getting into.

No guile. No creativity. Hardly any tactics to speak of.

Just straight up and brutal combat. Something the Aurors had been good at for years. One on one, an Auror could always defeat a standard Death Eater--they were better trained, better supported, and usually selected with far more care. They were the best the world had to offer, whether the battle came on an open field or in the back corner of a shady pub. They had fought fights like this before and won.

It was a recipe for disaster.

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"So tell me, Sirius. What are you searching for?" Uncanny eyes followed his every move. "A young and upstanding wizard such as yourself hardly seeks out a retired Dark Lord for the educational value of doing so. I doubt I can teach you any lessons that your Hogwarts professors would have wanted you to learn."

Sirius snorted. "I'm hardly upstanding." Despite the seriousness of the situation, he grinned. "And if I wanted to follow their guidance, I wouldn't have chosen the road I am on."

A soft chuckle. "I dare say you would not have. Do you even know what game you are playing, young man?"

"I've a fair idea, yes."

"A 'fair idea,'" Grindelwald mused. "A fair idea. You had better know what you are doing, otherwise your much-vaunted goodness will die with you."

"I know what I am doing," Sirius replied.

This was their third meeting, and the least unnerving yet. Both of the previous times, they had simply played chess, a game Grindelwald seemed rather obsessed with. They'd not spoken much of important matters, though the topic of ancient Wizarding history had come up once or twice--allowing Grindelwald to crinkle his nose up in disgust at Sirius' lack of knowledge. But he wasn't there to discuss history, or even to play that infernal game so many wizards adored. He was there to learn...and Sirius was smart enough to recognize that the chess games were something of a test.

So back he came, each time. One could learn about people simply through watching, and if that was the only opportunity he had, then so be it. Sirius would do what he had to do. This was the enigmatic man who had once intrigued a young Tom Riddle, who had survived reigning--and falling--as a Dark Lord.

"Do you?"

He was leaning on the wall, half covered in shadow, sick of sitting and being proper. "I do."

"I doubt that," the older wizard chuckled again. "But I can't help you. You're on a hero's quest, boy, not that of a Dark Lord." The same twinkle in the still-youthful eyes. "At least not yet."

"I'm on the road of necessity, and it's neither black nor white," Sirius countered.

Grindelwald suddenly became serious. "There are no shades of gray in this world, Sirius. I thought you knew that."

"I do. But there is always red." He looked Grindelwald in the eye, glad to see the glitter that indicated he'd finally won a point. "Which is why I came to ask for your advice."

"And why should I give it?" the other asked immediately.

"Because you want me to become what you are." He knew at least that much, knew the dangers and knew the price. Sirius kept his face expressionless. This was not a new road.

"You already are."

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Just like before, they would go in with two teams; Alice and Frank would lead one, with Bill Weasley and Jessica Avery leading the other. However, unlike before, they did not have a clever entrance route or outside help. Fudge had seemed interested in neither; he wouldn't let any other Ministry department help them, and he refused to give Alice the time to think up something better. He operated under the assumption that the Aurors would figure everything out on their own and create miracles out of powdered sugar when he demanded them--except he'd given them a sack of soggy salt, and Alice had not been able to figure out what to do with that.

Except going for a swim.

In January, the water around Azkaban and Avalon was relentlessly cold, frigid enough to freeze a Muggle in a matter of minutes. Thankfully, Aurors weren't Muggles, and they were well surrounded by warming charms by the time that they Apparated into the water right outside of Azkaban's line of defenses.

Sirius' escape had given her the idea; he'd managed to swim out all those months ago. What kept the Aurors from swimming in? So they'd orchestrated the Group Apparation (much like Side-Along Apparation, but a specialty of Aurors alone) with extra special care, and had--hopefully--managed to land two groups of Aurors together on either side of the island.

"Yewch." To her left, Dana bobbed to the surface, spitting out water as she did. Blonde hair stuck to her face, and she swatted it away impatiently, her eyes working back and forth expertly. She was almost ready, Alice knew. Dana was far and away one of the best in her class, and she was better than many active Aurors Alice had known. All she had to do was stay alive, and she'd go far.

"It's bloody cold!" Tom Laurence burst out, splashing around next to his Mentor, Christa Gambledon. Christa laughed tightly, but no one else managed to smile.

"Shall we?" Frank asked her quietly, and Alice nodded, doing a quick head count. Eleven Aurors. Everyone was accounted for. She could only pray that Bill's group had also been successful.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

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"Severus."

"My Lord?" He rose gracefully, his head still trying to swim with visions.

"In a slightly different world--"

"Hello, Tom--"

"Remember that list you mentioned...?"

"...you want me to become what you are--"

"...I have chosen you."

He started, struggling to keep the surprise and confusion off of his face and failing utterly. Within a tenth of a second, Severus braced himself for the inevitable curse--how could he be so stupid to let his concentration wander? If he wasn't careful, he'd find the Dark Lord rummaging through his innermost thoughts and then everything would be over--idiot! Get it over with! Severus swallowed hard.

"Forgive me, Master. My mind was...elsewhere. Spinning." He'd not been so socially graceless in a decade. Or so unconvincing.

One dark eyebrow rose, and Severus controlled his breathing. It was best to do so before the curse started, because one could then survive the effects better--

"I have chosen you to bring my message to Minister Fudge," the Dark Lord repeated. "Unless your inattention implies that I should send someone different--Lucius, perhaps?"

Severus blinked hard. "No, My Lord," he replied quickly. "You honor me--"

"Yes. I do. But you will not disappoint me."

What is he doing? Pitting Lucius and I against one another? "No, My Lord. I would die first."

"I know you would, Severus."

Odd how true that was. Voldemort knew it, too. They both did.

"I need another batch of your Elixir, Severus."

"Yes, My Lord."

"When the time comes--"

He forced his mind free of the sudden onslaught. Not now!

But why had the Elixir come to mind?

"What message would you have me bring, My Lord?" he asked calmly, aware of the red eyes watching him calmly--looking for what? Something. Weakness? Strength? Loyalty?

The lines had been drawn. Sides had been chosen. Perhaps he had made his choice by brewing the Elixir, by making Voldemort ageless, immortal. Or maybe he'd done so by stabbing Remus. Either way, Severus was no longer living two lives. He was living one--one he had almost been born for, almost known would be his from the beginning. Why, then, had he left such a road? Suddenly, the old life was very comfortable. Red eyes were watching him, still.

Very comfortable.

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On dry land, moving forward. Bill could only hope that Alice and Frank were doing the same, that they'd made it out of the freezing water and were on the shores of Azkaban.

Odd how the island felt like Avalon.

"Ready?" Jessica Avery asked him. Somehow, he'd ended up in overall charge of this mission, despite the fact that she was almost three years senior to him. In the old days, they'd have had one of those uber-experienced Aurors to fall back upon, someone with all the knowledge, with every trick up their sleeve. Someone like Alastor Moody. But now Bill's generation was the experienced Aurors; there wasn't anyone else to lean on. And Bill's generation was dying fast. Dying like Charlie.

Why did this place make him think of his brother? Why now, when he could little afford to do anything but concentrate? "We mourn those who have fallen by fighting for them, not by falling ourselves. Get your mind on business, Weasley." Moody again. Merlin, how he missed that man, too. Bill nodded quickly.

"Let's do this thing."

Step by step, they crept up the beach. The night seemed unusually quiet--where were the alarms, the Death Eaters? Hairs rose on the back of Bill's neck, making him immediately consider a trap, but he forced himself to discard the notion. Paranoia kept you alive, but it could handicap you, too.

"Dawlish, take point. Oscar, you've got the rear--and don't even think about arguing with me, Waters. I'll hex you all the way back to Avalon by myself if you don't shut up," Bill hissed.

"I--"

Oscar grabbed his student's arm, and Waters glared, but Bill could hardly afford to pay attention to them. Heading straight for the Prisoner Delivery Gates--there was no time or planning for finesse--the Aurors stayed low and quiet, waiting for the other boot to fall. Sooner or later, they'd be spotted and have to battle their way in...and twenty-one Aurors against forty-some Death Eaters just did not make for good odds.

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There was a little known back door in Azkaban, leading in right next to the turret that formed the edge of the Lestranges' Azkaban quarters. The Aurors had always known about it, but trying to enter through that booby-trapped and warded door had always been considered something on the dumber side of suicide. It was like ringing the doorbell before trying to rob a house--everyone knew that doing so was a bad idea, so they never had to explain themselves. Such stupid things just weren't done.

Until Fudge, the little prick.

"Once you're in, move left immediately," she whispered to her team. "We'll have next to no time, so don't worry about being stealthy--just burst in the door and get out of the way. We've got to get eleven people through that door before all hell breaks loose, and mark my words, all hell will break loose. So just get through the damn door and move."

"Don't forget that you've only got seventeen minutes until your wand turns into a Portkey, so move fast," Frank added. "Unless Alice or I counter the spell, every last one of us will be back on Avalon in sixteen and a half minutes."

"Is that long enough?" Tom Laurence asked innocently.

"Plenty long," Alice replied darkly.

Dana must have read the look on her face. "Probably too long," she added quietly, calm and collected at her Mentor's side. Damn if Alice wasn't proud of the girl--she'd come so far and so fast. Dana was just about ready to be on her own.

She looked over the others one last time. Sixteen minutes.

"Three," Alice counted down.

"Two." She exchanged one fleeting look with Frank.

We are so going to lose.

"One."

No changing that now. Just do it, girl. Fight the good fight, and make the morons see.

"Go!"

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"I beg to differ."

"Of course you do!" Grindelwald laughed. "Not every Dark Lord follows the same path, you know. Riddle seeks power. I was bored. You--you want to save the world. I daresay that makes you the most dangerous of us all."

"I have no intention of becoming a Dark Lord," Sirius snapped before he could stop himself.

"Don't you?"

"No."

Another dangerous chuckle.

Control yourself, Sirius. No use letting the temper out here; that will only make him think he's got what he wants. A deep and cleansing breath felt neither deep nor cleansing. Then the moment of truth: Does he?

"I see it on your face," Grindelwald continued more seriously. "I see the realization, the transformation, in your eyes. You're already on that road, and you hardly need my help there...only with understanding history."

Sirius snorted. "Not so much history as Tom Riddle."

"Is that not the same?"

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"Dana!"

She went down with hardly a sound, and Alice's vision went red. She started to leap forward, but a strong set of hands stopped her.

"Stay down!" Francine Hoyt shouted at her, dragging Alice back behind their blasted and crumbled wall of a barrier. "I'll get her."

"The hell you will!" Alice spat, leaping back up.

Too late.

Less than four minutes into the action, Francine went down, landing neatly on top of Dana's body. Neither moved. Neither breathed.

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Six minutes in.

"Glacialium!"

They weren't even inside the building. The Prisoner Delivery Gate had opened immediately, easily--too easily. Too perfectly. Dawlish was even six steps away from getting inside when everything fell apart--

"Vindireperio!"

Bill dodged. Oscar swore.

"Offenvox!"

"Crucio!"

Tonks managed to dodge the curse, barely but skillfully. Her eyes met Bill's briefly, dark with the knowledge that everything had gone wrong and they had no way to retreat. But in less than ten minutes, they wouldn't have to. All they had to do was not die. For ten minutes. Ten long minutes.

"Imperio!" His gutsy student threw an Unforgivable back at her insane uncle-by-marriage, making Rodolphus' eyes widen in surprise seconds before the curse hit. Someone freed him almost immediately, but the effect was worth remembering. Bill smiled hungrily, feeling bloodthirsty. His group had a few minor injuries so far, but this group, led by Rodolphus Lestrange, didn't seem as tough as they did numerous. Now let's hit them again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Cadovallum!"

"Avada--" Rodolphus went down, and good riddance to that. The Lestranges had "escaped" in the middle of the previous night, and no one had seen fit to notify the Aurors until fifteen minutes before they left. Bill wouldn't have felt remorse watching Oscar fell the Death Eater, anyway, but now he just grinned.

Nine more minutes. Ten Aurors still standing.

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"They're dead!"

Tom Laurence had demonstrated amazing athleticism (and even better luck) by jumping over their impromptu barrier and dodging curses at the same time; now he just had to get back to the Aurors' side without dying. Never mind the news he brought; Alice could not bear to think of that now, not with nine live Aurors surrounding her and a battle to be fought. There wasn't time for that cold feeling growing inside.

"Get back here, Tom!" Christa Gambledon shouted after her student, firing curses over his head to cover for him. He dove for cover, and almost made it--but a red light stabbed into his back, and the Auror fell face down. So close.

Alice's wand grew a bit warm. Eight more minutes. Halfway there.

"Cover us!" Cornelia Crouch shouted, and she and Frank moved as one. Alice immediately directed her Aurors' magic to shield the pair, and watched with half a mind as her husband and his student dragged Laurence back behind the wall.

"Stupefy!" Christa connected with someone. Was that Malfoy?

"Debellum!"

No. That was Malfoy. Who did she hit, then?

No time to wonder.

"Crucio!" Frank went down screaming; Malfoy's curse was well aimed.

Not my husband, you don't, Alice thought darkly. Cornelia was busy with both Jugsons, but Alice had a good line of sight. "Extundo! Demergos!"

An invisible hammer slammed into Malfoy, and then quicksand dragged him down. To Alice's right, Frank wheezed, "Good hit."

"Thanks." She could manage a tight smile, and then back to business.

Seven minutes. So much could happen in seven minutes.

Fred Randolph went down.

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"Calvin, look out!" Oscar all but dragged his foolhardy student out of the way of a Killing Curse, and Bill grimaced. It had to be almost time, but every moment lasted a lifetime. He hadn't lost anyone yet, but Jessica's arm was bleeding pretty badly, and Tonks had been thrown against a wall so hard that she was still seeing two of each Death Eater--which did not seem to hurt her aim one bit. Then again, with at least thirty Death Eaters arrayed against them, it was hard not to hit someone.

And then the coldness came.

"Dementors!" Bill gasped, having wondered when the Death Eaters would remember their foul allies. Whoever had taken charge when Rodolphus went down was not clear (and the Death Eaters seemed to be having the same problem answering that question, much to Bill's delight), but they'd finally gotten their heads out of their collective arses enough to remember. "Look out!"

Sweeping in from the left.

"Right side, on three!" Jessica commanded, twisting to face the advancing Dementors. Oscar, Calvin, Dawlish, and Terry Scott did the same. "One! Two! Three--"

"Expecto Patronum!" Four voices cried as one. The dark line faltered, and as the four Aurors held the spell, some Dementors began to fall back.

"Stupefy! Offenvox! Repellum!" Bill was not about to let the Death Eaters take advantage of the situation, not when they were so damn close. Oh, sh--

Terry had been too far to the right, and when some Dementors fell back, a few of the others managed to reach out, shrinking back as Tonks screamed out her own Patronus, but stretching their gray and decaying hands out toward the young Auror. "Terry!" Dawlish tried to bellow out a warning, but it was too late. Terry went rigid as the Dementors grabbed him, his body jerking in response.

Three minutes.

"Contegorum!" Bill threw up the strongest Shield Charm he could muster, yelling to Tonks over his shoulder. "Help them!"

"On it!" He could hear her shout to the remaining three Aurors: "Now! Expecto Patronum!"

Joyce Rodgers, Simon Edgecombe, and Missy Erickson joined her, and out of the corner of his eye, Bill saw the Dementors waver. There were so many of them, though, and repelling them took more time than they had... Yes! Terry hit the ground as the Dementors retreated.

Two minutes.

Bill's head spun, ached, pounded. His shield was fraying at the edges as spell after spell slammed into it, but he struggled to keep the shield firm. They only needed a few minutes--less than one hundred seconds--and then he could pass out.

Ninety seconds.

"I'll get him!" Calvin shouted, just a hair too soon.

"No, wait!" Oscar made a grab for his student and missed; the younger man leapt forward and sprinted towards Terry, his long strides eating up the ground between them. It was only thirty or so feet; the Dementors had not had a chance to drag him that far.

Too far.

"Contegorum!" Tonks' shield spell joined Bill's, and then Joyce's, too; he could breathe a little easier. Oscar and the others were struggling to cover Calvin's heroic rush. Fool.

With one minute to go, Calvin skidded to a stop at Terry's side, dropping to his knees and pointing his wand at the other Auror's head. "Ennervate." They could hear the spell, even from so far away; Calvin poured a lot of energy into it, knowing that he'd have to wake Terry up fast. Simon and Missy were busy taking potshots at the Death Eaters, trying to drive them back. The effort wasn't working too well, but they didn't need much longer.

At forty-five seconds, Terry blinked groggily and allowed Calvin to drag him to his feet. He staggered, but did not fall. Still, he had to lean heavily on Calvin, who wrapped his right arm around his fellow Auror for support, dragging him forward. At forty seconds, Dawlish's Snatching Spell yanked his student right out of Calvin's grasp, shouting for Calvin to hurry.

"Move!" Dawlish bellowed, just as Oscar threw forth another Patronus Charm, lacking even the time to warn his protégé. But Dawlish did. "Behind you!"

"Run!" Tonks screamed, then twisted right again. "Expecto Patronum!"

Too little, too late. Calvin started forward.

Thirty seconds.

"Expecto Patronum!" Simon and Missy.

"Move, damn you!" Oscar paused to shout; his Patronus had faltered slightly, and he'd needed to recast the spell.

Calvin looked over his shoulder, and his stride faltered.

Twenty.

Gray hands reached for Calvin, but he managed to twist aside, avoiding the deadly grasp. His wand came up and around fast, far faster than Bill had ever seen him. His eyes were focused, even; rash though he was, Calvin did not lack courage, and he knew what had to be done. Bill's wand was red hot. The fifteen second warning. Last ditch chance.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Gray hands wrapped around the Auror's neck just as white light came out of his wand; a nearby Dementor faltered, but not the important one. Not the first one--

"Calvin!"

Bill was never quite sure who said the name. Maybe it was him.

Ten seconds.

"Forward, move, now!" Bill shouted, rising and sprinting for Calvin. Shields hardly mattered now; they'd either be cursed or not as they ran. There just might be enough time.

Twenty feet.

Seven seconds.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Nine rushed voices, desperate and ragged. They knew better than to let the strain affect their magic, but there was no avoiding that. Aurors or not, they were on the sharp edge.

Half the Patronii failed. No one could tell which.

Four.

Halfway there. A few Dementors fell back, but with them they took Calvin, lifting his feet off the ground and carrying him away--

Two.

Tonks and Bill launched themselves forward anyway, reaching out. A little bit of a reach and they might just be close--

Gone.

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"Minister Fudge," he said calmly, "I am here for one express purpose, and it is not to listen to your diatribe concerning my evil ways. Save such convincing words for the public.

"I am present to deliver my Lord's terms for peace. In his generosity, Lord Voldemort has chosen to withdraw from Hogwarts, allowing your Aurors to retake the school. In return, he accepts your release of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, both of whom were graciously returned to his presence this morning." Severus nodded courteously.

"This is an adequate starting point," he continued. "However, in return for a complete cessation of hostilities, Lord Voldemort requires the following non-negotiable concessions:

"Confirmation of yourself as Minister of Magic, either through election or decree;

"Immediate passage of specific laws, detailed in the missive I have already given you;

"A complete census taken of all Muggleborn witches and wizards in our society;

"Return of all property seized from my Lord and his loyal followers;

"Closing of Wizarding Britain's borders to foreigners until such a time my Lord determines;

"And finally, the delivery of Sirius Black, with whom my Lord has unfinished... affairs."

The proverbial pin might have dropped without anyone in the room noticing; all dumbstruck eyes were fastened on Severus as if he was some type of exotic talking creature and speaking Swahili. Fudge's mouth opened and closed ineffectively, and he looked ready to whimper. The thought of him doing so was amusing until his mouth kept opening and closing, and the Minister began to remind Severus of some of Sprout's uglier plants.

Don't think of Hogwarts. You are a Death Eater.

Especially in this moment.

His face, of course, was still expressionless. His robes were immaculate. His pale features might have been a bit sharp, but Snape was the picture of collected power. Controlled. Poised.

Has the message been delivered, Cornelius?

"I--I--" Fudge stuttered helplessly. "I'm going to need time to con--"

"You can't seriously be thinking of accepting!" Paden Patil interjected angrily. "He's the man who betrayed Hogwarts! Who caused the death of so many children--"

"Hem, hem. Personal feelings have no place in this discussion, Minister Patil," Umbridge interrupted, smiling serenely at Severus.

"He's a traitor!" Patil snarled.

Snape allowed himself to snort derisively. "I am no traitor, Minister Patil. We have all chosen sides in this war. I have remained ever loyal to my Lord." He turned his head, ever so slightly, to look Fudge in the eye. "And I have been recognized for such loyalty."

Umbridge was still simpering, hoping that he'd notice her. Severus chose not to.

"I--I need time," Fudge pleaded, seeming unnerved. Good.

Was it wrong to enjoy this? Certainly not when Fudge was squirming so.

"Of course you do," he replied smoothly. "But the Dark Lord is not infinitely patient. I suggest that you do not test the limits of his tolerance."

"How long do I have?" Fudge all but whimpered. Severus was already sweeping towards the door.

"Seven days," he said over his shoulder, not looking back. Never look back. His mother had taught him that, years ago.

"But I can't!"

"Of course you can," Abner Bode replied harshly. "It's not that hard."

The door shut behind Severus before the resulting argument exploded.

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