A Father's Sin

A Father's Sin

by Severitus

CHAPTER 4  The Gray Lady

Breakfast wasn't so much a priority the next morning, as it was devoured quickly and without the usual lingering enjoyment. By the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione had each emptied their plates, not a one could remember with any certainty what had been served. The truly important thing to be done that morning was to figure out the significance of the Pensieve's vision, and to fill Hermione in on what she'd missed. She caught on quickly enough, though Harry noticed that she was still acting strangely toward him.

"You should've stayed to see what else Snape has stored in the Pensieve...." Hermione muttered, leaning an elbow on the table as she thought. Ron rolled his eyes slightly, but Harry crossed his arms angrily.

"I don't think I'd want to see what else he had in there. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with the Serpent's Children at all...." Harry said, and Hermione gave him that look that clearly said she was having doubts about his brain.

"It has everything to do with it, Harry. You didn't give the Pensieve a command, did you?" she said, her arms now crossed on the table in front of her.

"No.…"

"See? Unless told otherwise, a Pensieve will show the most recently accessed memory. And you said that Snape was furious when you mentioned the Serpent's Children, and that it looked like the same room you saw through the lion…If it upset him that much, it only makes sense that he'd use the Pensieve," she said, embittered by the fact that she was obviously the only one who knew anything about Pensieves.

"Well, that still doesn't help us any," Ron muttered, throwing Harry a look. Hermione made a disgusted sound in her throat and furrowed her eyebrows, her palms pressed flat on the tabletop.

"It tells us everything! Snape obviously knows something about the Serpent's Children, and there's only one way we're going to find out what. Harry, you've got to sneak back down there tonight and tell the Pensieve to show them to you," Hermione said, leaving no room for argument. Harry gaped at her in confusion, glancing quickly to Ron for help.

"Why Harry?" Ron offered.

"Because he's better at sneaking around than we are, and I'm better at inventing cover stories. He can go down tonight, after we practice you-know-what," she said, and Harry let his head fall to the table. Another night of death-defying and delving into the mind of his least favorite person. Admittedly, Harry wanted to find out what Snape knew just as much as Hermione, but something about delving into his memories frightened him. Snape had been a Death Eater, after all, who knew what horrors lurked in the recesses of his mind? Murder, torture, mayhem, Voldemort...Harry didn't like the possibilities.

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

That afternoon, Headmaster Dumbledore sat in his office, rereading a curious letter he'd been sent two days previous. Sitting nervously across the desk from him was the author of that letter, looking very much like she'd rather be anyplace in the world but there. She was an old woman, dressed in simple gray robes and a purple shawl. Her face was of the kindly sort, wrinkled from years of smiles and laughter, her eyes containing a youthful twinkle that made you think of a kindly grandmother or nanny. Currently she was twisting a handkerchief in her lap, staring at the top of Dumbledore's desk as if searching for an escape.

"Relax, Mrs. Templeton. You're not in any trouble, if that's what has you worried," Dumbledore offered, though his voice was missing much of its usual conviction. He was still staring at the letter, as if unable to completely grasp the meaning of the writing there.

"It's not that, Professor. I just...I just don't want him to be hurt. I remember reading in the news about what the Ministry did...I didn't tell anyone because of them. I couldn't, not knowing what they'd do…." she said, her eyes sparkling wetly as she looked up at last. Dumbledore lowered the letter, adjusting the glasses on his nose.

"I understand, it was wise of you. I assume you've told me because of the recent events in the news?" he asked, and she nodded, still twisting her handkerchief.

“Has anything happened here? I mean, anything like...?” she began, her expression terrified. The cloth strained against her fingers, the small flowers embroidered on it warped out of shape.

“No, thankfully. All appears to be normal, though I can’t say for sure if things will stay that way,” he said, then paused to rub his temple gently, his eyes shut tightly. “I’m glad you told me, though I can honestly say that I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“You’ve got to help him! He doesn’t--” she began, leaning forward in panic. Dumbledore waved his hands for her to calm down, and she sat back, clutching the twisted cloth to her chest.

“Calm down, Mrs. Templeton. I will not abandon him, though I’m not sure that I’m the right person to help him on this....” he said, and she sat back, nodding in comprehension. Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from the cup of tea set on the edge of his desk. “Now, I want you to tell me everything, from the beginning. I want to hear every word.”

“Yes, Professor.”

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

The first Quidditch practice of the year wasn’t much fun, Harry thought as practice ended, even with Ron on the team. Harry had, predictably, been made team captain, and Ron had been appointed as the new Gryffindor Keeper. They were still one team member short though, and it was difficult to practice without a full team. Harry circled idly above the field, watching in amusement as the rest of the team (namely Fred and George) gave Ron strong pats on the back as they headed off the field. He’d been practicing over the summer, and had turned out to be an exceptional Keeper. Hopefully they’d have a strong team this year, assuming they could find a good Chaser in team tryouts.

Circling lower, Harry saw something out of the corner of his eyes that caught his interest. Upon closer inspection, he saw that there was a person standing just beyond Hogwarts’ border, just within the line of trees. They were standing alone, watching him. Curious, Harry drifted closer, drawing just near enough to make out their face. They looked to be about his own age, dressed in rich purple robes with no school designation on the shoulder. The boy looked familiar at first, and it took Harry a moment to realize that he looked an awful lot like Draco Malfoy. The most significant difference was the hair color, which was a deep, slicked-back brown. The other difference was the odd marking on his cheek, a small serpent set just beneath the right cheekbone. Something about that symbol sent a chill up Harry’s spine, and he started to drift further away, watching the boy warily.

“I can’t enter,” he said, and Harry stopped, steering his broom nearer again. He kept a good distance between them, his hand unconsciously drifting to the wand at his side.

“What did you say?” Harry asked, and the figure smiled, the tattoo standing out vividly against his pale flesh.

“I said, I cannot enter. The warding spells keep me out,” he said, and Harry flinched as he felt his scar twinge. The boy was radiating power, something dark and horribly familiar. With each second it was growing stronger, and Harry could feel his thoughts growing fuzzy, drifting out of focus.

“Who are you?” he hissed angrily, holding a hand to his forehead. There was an odd, dull roar rising in the back of his mind, a white noise that was steadily beginning to make it difficult to even hear his own thoughts.

“Son of your enemy,” he answered, lips curling in a very Malfoy-like smirk. Then he turned and abruptly dashed off into the trees, robes whipping behind him.

“Harry! Are you alright?!” Ron asked, suddenly standing next to Harry, broom slung across one shoulder. Only then did Harry realize that he was standing on the ground, still staring at the spot of trees where the mysterious boy had disappeared.

“What? Yes, I’m fine...but did you see that?” Harry asked, propping his own broom against his shoulder.

“See what? I turned around and saw you just standing there, staring off at the trees....” Ron said, his eyes wide with worry.

“It was nothing...I just thought I saw someone I guess,” Harry muttered, casting one last glance toward the trees. Had he just imagined it? He wondered. Shaking his head in frustration, Harry turned around and nodded to Ron, straightening his glasses. “Come one, let’s get back inside before dark.” Ron nodded reluctantly, and they began the slow trek across the field in silence.

Ron kept glancing over at him in worry, but Harry didn’t say a word. His thoughts were still a bit fuzzy, and he kept wondering about what he’d seen. The tattoo especially kept plaguing his thoughts. He wondered, could that have been one of the so-called Serpent’s Children? It certainly seemed like it. He had to tell Dumbledore, he realized, he’d want to know about one being so close to the school.

“Are you coming, Harry?” Ron asked when they reached the main hall. Ron had started heading in the direction of Gryffindor tower, but Harry had stopped near main door, not following.

“No, Ron. I’ve got to see Dumbledore. I’ll see you at dinner, alright?” Harry said, and Ron nodded, watching him worriedly.

“Alright, see you there,” Ron said, then reluctantly turned and headed down a hallway. Harry watched him go, then turned toward a staircase and headed up slowly, his eyes unfocused as he ascended them almost mechanically. A woman in gray robes passed by him at some point, but he didn’t look up, continuing up till he stood before the stone gargoyle. However, before he breathed a word, someone spoke to him.

“Evening, Harry. Did you have a nice practice session today?” a voice asked, and Harry turned to see Headmaster Dumbledore himself standing just off to the side, looking especially tired.

“It was alright I suppose, it’s hard to do much without a full team,”  Harry replied, blinking as he struggled out of the slight daze. Dumbledore nodded, and stepped up to the gargoyle.

“Vanilla Taffy,” Dumbledore said, and motioned for Harry to follow him up to the office. After sitting down heavily in the chair behind his desk, Dumbledore rested his head on one hand and rubbed his eyes lightly. Only once had Harry ever seen the Headmaster look so strained, so weighed down by something on his mind, and that had been after Voldemort’s return. Whatever was bothering the Headmaster now, it couldn’t be good, and Harry was loathe to add to it.

“Headmaster, are you alright?” Harry asked, and Dumbledore looked up, his face twisting into a light smile after a moment.

“Yes, thank you Harry,” he said, taking pride in his student’s concern. “Now, there must be a reason you were standing in front of my gargoyle?” he said, and Harry nodded, lowering his gaze.

“I saw someone, near the forest just after practice,” Harry said, and Dumbledore’s eyes instantly widened as he sat up quickly.

“You saw someone?” he prompted, and Harry shifted nervously, surprised by the Headmaster’s sudden interest.

“Yes...a boy about my age. He looked a little bit like Draco, only he had brown hair and a serpent tattoo on his cheek,” he said, and the Headmaster blinked, his eyebrows knitting slightly.

“Did he speak to you at all?”

“He just said that he couldn’t enter, because of the warding spells. I asked him who he was, and he answered ‘son of my enemy,’ before disappearing off into the forest,” Harry said, not looking Dumbledore in the eye. He was remembering the effect he’d had on him, the dark aura he exuded. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Harry settled for fiddling with the broomstick in his hands to occupy himself. Dumbledore looked fairly disturbed now, his eyes unfocused as he thought about what Harry had said.

“Was his power familiar? Like--” Dumbledore began, and Harry perked up, surprised that the Headmaster had known about the boy’s aura.

“Like the Dark Lord’s?” Harry offered softly, and Dumbledore’s eyes snapped on him instantly.

“Yes. Exactly like that,” he said, and Harry knew by his expression that it was part of what had been bothering the man. Realizing that, he thought he might broach a question on the subject.

“Do you think that he could be one of the Serpent’s Children?” Harry asked, and he watched as Dumbledore flinched slightly, his fingers curling and eyes shutting tightly. He sighed deeply then, leaning back in his chair heavily.

“Yes, Harry. He was one of the Serpent’s Children...I just can’t believe one dared to come so close to the school....” Dumbledore looked away in thought for a moment, his fingers plucking at his snow colored beard. “I think I better tell you some about them, Harry...it might be safer if you happen to run into one again.”

“Alright, sir,” Harry said when Dumbledore paused, looking more forlorn than Harry had ever seen him. Clearing his throat once, the Headmaster began, his voice devoid of all its usual cheer.

“As you know, Voldemort views Muggles and Muggle-borns with the utmost hatred. He murdered them at every opportunity, but even so he realized the futility of his efforts, there were far too many to simply be killed," Dumbledore said, though he was staring at his desk as he spoke, as if staring off into a distant memory, "Therefore, he came up with a plan that would serve to purify the wizarding world and ensure his control of it. He ordered the Death Eaters to venture out and kidnap Muggle-born women, and ...rape them," he said, and Harry drew in a sharp breath, images from the Pensieve flashing through his mind. Dumbledore waited a moment, studying Harry's horrified reaction before continuing, "Through a link he forged with his Death-Eaters, he ensured that some of his power would be passed onto each and every child born of the crime, and that each would bear the symbol of the Serpent. These are known as the Serpent's Children. Voldemort can control them easily through the power they share, and now that he has risen again, he is calling upon their power," Dumbledore stopped, watching his young student yet again. Harry was battling a variety of emotions, mainly a bitter, seething hatred and fresh disgust for the Dark Lord. There was also confusion and fear, roiling brighter when his mind briefly flicked back to the crystal lily sitting on his bedside table.

"There are forty of them," Harry said after a moment, staring at the clenched fists rested in his lap. Dumbledore looked up, his mouth slightly open with surprise.

"Not any more," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice, and Harry knew then that there was much that he had not been told, and probably would never be. "How did you know?"

"I accidently--looked through one of Sn--er, Professor Snape's figurines. I saw Voldemort torturing the Death Eaters because there would be only about 40 of them," Harry said, and he could have sworn that Dumbledore looked relieved, and then saddened again as he explained.

"Yes...the Death Eaters are notorious for their brutality...many of the women did not survive, a great number died, in fact," Dumbledore said, and Harry watched as the old wizard's eyes filled with a deep remorse. "I pray you never know the extent of that violence, Harry. Even with everything my old eyes have seen throughout the years, nothing can compare to what the Death Eaters did at Voldemort's command," he said, and Harry saw a flicker of bright pain flash behind the man's eyes as he spoke, but it vanished as he sat up in his chair, sucking in a deep breath. "I apologize, Harry, I should not be saying such things, but I knew many of the women who died, most were former students. However, I'm telling you this in the possibly vain hope that you will leave the matter alone. The Serpent's Children have to potential to be just as cruel as Voldemort, and I doubt even you could stand up against their combined power, Harry."

"How many are there...?" Harry asked tentatively, a tinge of fear coloring his voice. If what Dumbledore said was true, there could be a couple dozen semi-Dark Lords running around, and that was not a pleasant thought.

"We don't know for sure, it was impossible to keep tabs on them all. Voldemort made sure that the women never saw the faces of their attackers, and not even the Dark Lord himself knew for sure which Death Eater took which woman. It was protection against spies, so that no names could be given even under Veritaserum. Memory charms were also used on many of the women, and as a result the women themselves didn't know that they were raising the child of a Death Eater, rather than that of their own husband. Only now are the remaining Serpent's Children being revealed for who they are, by answering Voldemort's murderous call. Four families, supposedly those raising the Serpent's Children, have already been killed. There's no telling how many more there will be."

"So that must have been Lucius Malfoy's son I saw...." Harry whispered, torn between shock at everything he'd been told, and disgust at the thought of another Malfoy running around.

"Most likely," Dumbledore answered, then his expression transformed into one of deadly seriousness. "Harry, until the matter is resolved, I do not want you leaving the school grounds, not even to go to Hogsmeade," he said, and Harry gaped at him in shock. He opened his mouth to protest, but the old wizard cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No buts, Harry. Their lives are dedicated to Voldemort, and he is obsessed with your death. If one has already approached you, then there will be more. The warding spells can protect you here, but there is nothing to stop them if you set foot beyond the border. I want you to promise me that you will not, even once, leave the grounds," Dumbledore said, his voice low and clear. His eyes were cold and firmly focused, not flinching once from Harry's shocked gaze.

"I promise, Professor Dumbledore," he said, doing his best to look the old wizard in the eye. The Headmaster smiled and nodded, leaning back from the desk again.

"Thank you, Harry. You set an old man's heart at rest."

           

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

--That night--

Harry shifted uncomfortably, attempting to arrange the long, bushy tail behind him into a position where he could sit properly. After a minute or two of searching, he ended up sprawled strangely in the armchair, his legs thrown up over the arm. Across from him, Hermione and Ron still had their eyes closed, and Harry had to stiffle a giggle at the sight of the two tall, pointed ears sticking up through Ron’s mess of red hair. Although, Harry thought, he wasn’t one to be laughing. There was no doubt that Harry had made the most progress in the group, both his hands were now paws and he kept biting his tongue with the sharp teeth that had invaded his mouth. He’d been shocked at how quickly he’d progressed, and attributed that fact to his father’s own animagus training, maybe it ran in the family.

“I swear, that feels weirder each time....” Ron grumbled as he opened his amber eyes, and Harry smiled lightly, his tail flicking back and forth from its place hanging over the chair edge. Harry kind of liked the tail, he decided. It was very strange to have another limb, but he was surprised at how easy controlling it was.

“You’ve got ears, Ron,” Harry said, and Ron instantly grinned, reaching his furry hands up to inspect the triangular additions.

“Whoa...what would Mum say?” Ron grinned, and Harry laughed. “You’ve got a tail! Wicked! I hope I get one, too!” Ron exclaimed, and Harry flicked the tail again, smiling brightly.

“You probably will, Ron, judging by your ears,” Hermione said as she opened her eyes, twitching her nose at the small, feline whiskers that she’d sprouted. “Me too, probably,” she added, inspecting the soft pads just visible on the palms of her hands.

“This will be so cool...just imagine, chasing Mrs. Norris down the halls in the dead of night....” Ron said, his eyes taking on a dreamy expression. Sighing, Harry let his head fall back against the arm of the chair, staring up at the roof. For a moment he remembered what Sirius had told him, stories about the Marauders' moonlight adventures. A stag, wolf, rat, and a dog, dashing through the night forest with not a care in the world. Maybe he should contact Lupin, Harry thought, there was a possibility that he was the wolf from the prophecy.

“Harry, would you hand me that book please?” Hermione asked, and Harry cast her a glare, raising his paws in the air.

“I would, if I had opposable thumbs,” he muttered, flexing his pearly claws in the firelight. Hermione turned red, with Ron laughing all the while.

“Sorry, Harry….” she muttered, and Harry laughed, this was turning out to be fun already.

They changed back shortly afterward, and then discussed the prophecy for a while, hoping to find something they’d missed or something they could link to what Dumbledore had said. Ron and Hermione had both been shocked when Harry had told them about his chat with Dumbledore, with Hermione looking especially pale. Harry noticed with no small amount of unease that she kept watching him curiously, though he didn't dare ask about it. As a whole they were still curious about the Serpent's Children, and despite Harry's futile protests, he would still be venturing down to the dungeons yet again. They still couldn't figure out the prophecy, and before long Harry found himself near dozing in one huge armchair, the Marauder’s Map spread in his lap as he waited for one stubborn dot to leave its office. It was near midnight when Harry finally got started on his way, with Ron calling after him not to get caught red-pawed, which was possibly the worst joke Ron had ever made. They had agreed to wait up for his return, just in case he got caught or happened to discover something that just couldn't wait until morning.

Harry hated sneaking, he realized that as he slipped down toward the dungeons for the second time. It was true that he had an odd knack for it, but defying the wrath of Filch and Snape was not what Harry would call his cup of tea. After all, trouble found him more often then not, there certainly wasn't any need to go looking for it. Harry froze when he spied a dot on the weathered map moving in his direction, and he quickly pressed up against a nearby wall, gritting his teeth in an attempt to slow his breath. He'd never been so thankful for the invisibility cloak as he was then, rough stone grating against his back as yellowish light from a lantern steadily grew upon the opposite wall, flickering wildly. It was Filch, he could hear the steady stomp and drag as the caretaker slowly emerged from the entrance of a nearby hallway, Mrs. Norris following a mere step behind. The cat froze once she'd rounded the corner, the lamplight reflecting vividly within her already unearthly eyes. She was staring directly at him, her whiskers twitching in familiar confusion. Filch paused a moment later, turning back toward the feline with a gruff, twisted smile.

"Nothing there, my sweet. Come on, now," he said, the cat's ears twitching at the rough voice. Filch continued on, the lamp swinging hypnotically back and forth, Harry struggling to keep his breath as the man passed by. The cat's eyes never once strayed from him as she trotted past, issuing one long, baleful meow when they were mere feet apart. It seemed to take ages for them to reach the turn in the hallway, the light steadily shrinking around the far corner. Harry let out a whoosh of breath and held a hand to his chest, his heart beating rapidly within his chest. 'Cloak, I love you!' Harry thought with relief, turning out into the hallway once again. He was near to the dungeon staircase, he could already feel the cool draft of air leaving the black entrance.

Descending the steps painfully slow, Harry paused every few steps to light his wand and check the map, which thankfully maintained that Snape was no where near neither the stairs or his office. Nevertheless, Harry couldn't quench the unconscious fear those rose like a tidal wave every time he made the slightest sound. He nearly cried with relief when at long last he reached the door to Snape's office, the dark wood of the door shining almost crimson in the soft light shed by his wand.

"Veneficus," Harry whispered, and twisted open the icy door handle as silently as he could, for the door hinges were in want of a greasing. Quickly shutting the door behind him, Harry pressed his back up against the wood and glanced about the room, as if making sure that the map clutched tightly in his hand told the truth. The room was just as it had been the night before, with the exception of the pile of parchment upon the desk being significantly smaller. Harry desperately wanted to get the whole thing done and over with, so he quickly dashed behind the desk, letting the hood of his cloak fall back against his shoulders. Carefully opening the cabinet, Harry sucked in a deep breath and leaned inside, warily prodding the contents of the Pensieve. Truthfully, he really didn't want to know what Snape knew about the Serpent's Children. Dumbledore had, after all, told him most everything about it. Was it really worth it, to be down here risking house points just to try and unravel some ridiculous prophecy? The more Harry thought about it, the more he wanted to simply turn around and forget the whole thing. But then he remembered the crystal Lily on the nightstand, his mother being dragged away kicking and screaming by Voldemort's faithful, and his resolve was instantly renewed. Looking back at the Pensieve, now churning like a thunderstorm, Harry cleared his throat and gave it a command.

"Show me my mother," he said, and the cloudlike contents of the basin began swirling in earnest, shifting between light and dark. Harry leaned forward and looked inside, and before he knew it, he was completely lost inside the memory.

He was at Hogwarts, standing in a hallway amidst a bustle of students. Then he saw her, standing against a nearby wall amidst a group a young Gryffindors. She must have been only eleven or twelve, for she too was dressed in the classic school robes and familiar colors. Her red hair was what he recognized first, and then the pair of green eyes that exactly matched the pair he saw each time he looked in a mirror. Harry walked closer, his jaw opened wide as he stared at his mother, smiling and laughing and so full of life. This was nothing in comparison to the pictures in his photo album, even if she was much younger. This was her. Alive. After a moment, she said something to her friends and began wandering in Harry's direction, her eyes fixed on something just behind him. Turning to find out what, Harry nearly stumbled when he sighted the figure standing directly behind him. A boy her age, tall, with longish black hair and extremely pale skin. The eyes were black as coal, but lit up in a friendly manner when Lily came nearer, his mouth twisting into a vague smile. Recognition dawned on Harry instantly, it was Snape.

{"Hello Severus, how did D.A.D.A. go today?"} she asked, adjusting the pair of Charms books held tightly to her chest. Snape shrugged lightly, his eyes flicking further down the hall to where a group of Gryffindor boys had gathered.

{"Fairly well, though I must warn you the teacher is quite fond of demonstrations,"} he said, his mouth twisting into an amused smile.

{"I'll keep that in mind. We're still on for Transfiguration homework tonight, right?"} she asked, watching him expectantly.

{"Of course, as long as your boyfriend and his merry men don't kill me first,"} Snape muttered, rolling his eyes in disgust.

{"Honestly, won't you two ever give it up? You've been at each others throats since day one, and I still don't understand why!"} Lily huffed, and Snape shifted uneasily.

{"Mystery of the Universe,"} he muttered, and Lily scowled, shifting her books so she could place one hand on her hip.

{"Mystery indeed. You're not innocent of it either. You've pulled just as many pranks on James as he has on you. His hair is still a bit green, you know,"} she said, though her mouth turned up in a slight smile. Snape grumbled, but after glancing down the hall once, his own mouth twisted into a half-smile.

{"Score one for Slytherin, then,"} he said, and Lily shook her head in dismay, turning to head down the hall.

{"You two are hopeless. I'll see you this evening, alright?"} she said, and Snape nodded. She turned and continued down the hall, with Snape's gaze once again directed at a certain group of Gryffindors, eyes swirling with malice.

The scene changed then, the people fading off into nothingness and the walls shifting and bending. Harry was still mulling over the fact that his mother had been on friendly terms with Snape when the next memory shifted into focus, and Harry's thoughts froze. It was the room again, the one he'd seen through the lion and in the Pensieve before. He was standing in the back of the room, looking directly ahead past the rows of cloaked figures at the looming form of the Dark Lord. He looked unusually pleased then, his crimson eyes flashing brilliantly. His teeth were gritted in a sort of predatory satisfaction as he glanced about the room, eyes flicking from one figure to another. Only two figures did not have their masks on, one was a younger Peter Pettigrew, and another was a young boy Harry didn't recognize. Suddenly, just as they had before, Death Eaters began apparating into the room, near to where Harry stood. The first one clutched a blonde woman, and though she was immobile, her eyes were busily flicking about the room in the utmost terror. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, as he realized what her fate would soon be. The very thought made him sick to his stomach, but he watched, both fascinated and horrified by the familiar proceedings. A second Death Eater appeared then, clutching the throat of another strange woman, whose eyes were tightly shut. The Dark Lord had risen, and was strolling toward the women slowly, his crimson eyes flashing. Then, two more Death Eaters appeared, and Harry fell to the ground with a sharp gasp. They had his mother. Each one held tightly to her arms as she lashed wildly, kicking out and twisting her body in an attempt to attack her captors. The Dark Lord grinned slyly, watching her in fascination as yet two more Death Eaters appeared, each with another immobile victim. His mother was the only one fighting, the only one screaming silently and lashing out with everything she had. Harry felt his breath quickening in fear as he watched her, the edges of his vision blurring as salty tears enroached on the scene. At the Dark Lord's summon, a single Death Eater rose from the ranks, silently stepping up behind the Dark Lord.

{"Why is she fighting?"} The Dark Lord asked of the two Death Eaters restraining Harry's mother.

{"She fought the Imperius, Master. We had no time to try casting another spell,"} one explained, his masked face turned to the ground. The Dark Lord nodded solemnly, then proceeded to walk before the other captives, his eyes flicking up and down each one as his nostrils flared violently. The Death Eater that had risen earlier now approached the struggling woman, wand held tightly in one gloved hand. He raised it toward her and whispered 'Serenus.' Instantly she stopped lashing, her eye lids drooping and limbs growing weak. She still fought some, weakly tugging at the hands tightly gripping her arms.

{"Is that the one you have chosen?"} Voldemort asked, turning to face the standing Death Eater. He nodded slowly, and Voldemort smiled evilly, and with a wave of his hand, four more Death Eaters rose from the ranks, each approaching and taking a place before one of the women. {"Proceed then, and may I warn you again to keep them alive,"} Voldemort hissed, and Death Eaters each took the women from their captors grasp, and began carting them toward the back of the room. Three of the women were dragged violently, one was thrown over a shoulder, and Harry's mother alone was carried with a degree of dignity. She was held, albeit a little carelessly, in one of the Death Eaters arms as he followed his comrades up the dark staircase in the back of the room.

Harry didn't want to hear what came next, he didn't want to hear his mother screaming like he'd heard the other women the last time he'd dared look through the Pensieve. More than anything in the world he wanted the memory to end, to be back up in Gryffindor common room without having seen the look of pure fury and terror on his mother's face, or the sick gleam within the Dark Lord's eyes. Harry nearly screamed when a hand settled on his shoulder, and the room before him began to swirl away and disappear.  Blinking slowly, Harry struggled to catch his breath, leaning heavily against the cabinet. Only then did he realize that someone had lit the candles in the room, and that he was no longer alone. Turning slowly around, Harry feared the very worst, and then saw it standing directly before him. Professor Snape himself.

----end chpt 4-----

Note: Although you've probably guessed most of what's gonna happen next chapter, I think you'll like it anyway. It's the big one, in which quite few mysteries are solved (or guesses confirmed!)