A Father's Sin

 

Chapter 7----Breaking

            Harry didn't move. Not a muscle twitched, nor an eye blinked, or even the tiniest breath filled his lungs as he stared at the black-clad figure. Snape was leaning nonchalantly against the statue, arms crossed and with a sneer cruel enough to send grown men screaming fixed upon his face.

            "You've got some explaining to do, Potter," Snape growled, and Harry jerked out of his shock, sucking in a forgotten breath. Snape was watching him coldly, standing just as still as he had been only a moment before. Harry shivered, unsure if it was caused by the chill of his soaked robes or from Snape's icy glare. "Well, aren't you going to tell me why you're hiding behind this statue, when you should very well be in the Great Hall?" Snape growled, though his eyes twinkled in dark pleasure from tormenting the boy. Harry took another deep breath, daring to look up from the floor. There was no use lying, was there?

            "I was just...hiding, from you, Professor," Harry said, struggling to keep his voice relatively calm.

            "That much is obvious," Snape barked, and Harry cringed, feeling the last bit of his weak resolve crumbling away. "What I want to know, is WHY. And don't you dare claim it's because of what I told you last night. Something else is going on, isn't there?" Snape said, though it was much more a statement of fact than it was a question.

            "Yes.…" Harry said, nodding weakly. He'd pressed his back up against the wall again, using its support to keep himself from falling. Snape took a step closer, towering over him, the flickering light from a nearby torch casting half his face into shadow.

            "Well? Are you going to tell me willingly, or do I have to drag you down to my office and force Veritaserum down your throat? Before assigning you a weeks detention and deducting half your house points, that is," Snape growled, black eyes flashing in warning. Harry was silent for a moment, flicking his gaze briefly to the statue and then to Snape once again.

            He had to tell him, he realized. As desperately as he wanted to keep it a secret, to banish the knowledge to the furthest recesses of his mind, he knew he had to tell him. After all, Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, weren't they? But then again, the Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin...there was certainly no questioning its reasoning on the matter now. But more than that, it was simply the right thing to do, the thing James Potter would have done. Harry cringed slightly as the thought, turning his eyes toward the statue once again. 'Just say it, Harry,' he told himself, taking several deep, preparatory breaths. Snape was waiting.

            "I found out something else...after I talked to you," Harry began, struggling and nearly succeeding to keep his voice calm and normal. Snape's mouth twisted into a smirk, pleased with having succeeded. "Hermione cast this spell we learned in Transfiguration, and we sort of found out that...that," Harry stuttered on the last word, the rest sticking in his throat. 'Damn it, Harry, just get it over with!' he thought, and sucked in another breath.

            "That what?" Snape growled sharply, one foot tapping impatiently.

            "THAT YOU'RE MY FATHER!!! OKAY?!"  Harry yelled, dropping his forehead into his hands. There. He'd said it. The truth revealed at the very top of his lungs, no cringing in fear or falling to pieces on the floor. Score one for Gryffindor.

            Snape was silent, frozen in his previous stance with the sole exception of his eyes, which were wide with shock "What?" Snape asked, his voice low and airy.

            "You heard me," Harry whispered, unable to tear his gaze away from Snape's expression. A muscle in Snape's cheek was twitching slightly, betraying the swirl of thought running rampant behind the frozen expression. Then an eye twitched, and the eyebrows began to tip downward, lips curling back from gritted teeth. The already black eyes grew even darker, filling with a hatred and fury unlike anything he’d seen before.

            "You dare...." Snape hissed, and Harry pressed up against the statue, watching Snape's expression as if it were a bomb exploding in slow motion. A low rumbling was rising deep in his throat, growing in intensity, "You would dare...." Snape repeated, his voice low and guttural. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've lain awake, plagued by the memory of what I did to your mother?!” he began, the rumbling in his throat as deep as a roll of thunder, “How for fifteen years I've seen her face every time I close my eyes, hear her screaming, pleading to be let go?! EVERY TIME I SEE YOU SHE HAUNTS ME!!!!” he yelled, his eyes were wide with fury, revealing more of their whites than Harry believed he’d ever seen, “In your eyes, boy, I see my hell. And you would DARE to torment me! Out of respect for her, I tell you the truth, digging up memories that should be left where they are. And YOU....you have the GALL to throw my words in my face!" Snape roared, white knuckled fists shaking at his sides. Abruptly, he whirled around, turning his back on the terrified boy. "Perhaps it's a good thing your parents are not alive, Potter," Snape growled dangerously, "They'd be loathe to call you their son," he hissed, then turned back around, fully intent upon sending the whelp to detention for the rest of his miserable life. He stopped....

The boy was gone.

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

            Harry fell to his knees in the dark tunnel, Snape's last words echoing down from above. His heart was pounding, ears ringing loudly from the sudden switch from vicious yelling to near silence. How he'd been lucky enough to hide behind that particular statue, he'd never understand, but he was pretty sure he'd thanked every lucky star in the sky despite.  Just a few feet above, Harry could hear Snape yelling his name, boot heels scraping against the weathered stone. Leaning back against the tunnel's jagged wall, Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, eyes shut against the complete darkness. The yelling stopped after a moment, and he could hear Snape scuffling around a bit more, most likely searching for the secret passage.

            Pushing suddenly to his feet, Harry pulled his wand out of his robes and whispered the spell to light it. If Snape managed to get the passage open, he most certainly did not want to be around to see it, he thought, and began heading down the tunnel. The dim light banished only some of the shadows ahead, reflecting brilliantly off the trails of water leaking down the cave-like walls. After a few minutes of walking, he could hear the muffled sound of thunder, still rolling strong.

            Gritting his teeth fiercely as some emotion or another tried to rise up in his chest, Harry continued on, nearly stumbling on the rocky floor. He kept hearing Snape's furious voice, black eyes swirling with unimaginable hatred. 'Why do you call him Snape?' A voice inside his mind questioned, 'Shouldn't you be calling him 'Daddy?' the voice taunted, and Harry growled deeply, fingers going numb from his fierce grip upon the wand.

            "Shut up," he hissed, walking faster down the tunnel. He nearly stumbled again, barely catching hold of the wall in time. Pausing, he struggled to catch his breath, fighting against the constriction in his chest. He'd told the truth, hadn't he? Wasn't it enough that he had to say it out loud, admit it to the man's face? He asked himself, jerking away front the wall and heading down the tunnel once again. He'd told the most painful truth he'd ever known, and he'd been yelled at for it, accused of playing some elaborate joke. Did Snape...oh, pardon, his father actually believe that he'd do such a thing? Take a story that so obviously caused the man pain, and twist it into a lie for amusement? Did he hate him that much? It seemed so, and to Harry, the idea of Snape hating him so much was now even more confusing and painful than it had ever been. Harry paused in his thoughts, brows furrowing. But then...he had a right to hate him, didn't he? After all, he was a bastard child, an accident, even if Snape didn't realize that fact.

            "Stop it!" Harry growled, shaking his head to clear it from that line of thought. He would go to Hogsmeade and walk around for a while, to try and clear his mind. Maybe he'd even go to the post and send Sirius a letter, he hadn't written him in a while. Harry stopped the thought abruptly, gritting his teeth again. No, he wouldn't think about that. He would not think about that! But the thought still arose, sliding in from the back of his mind like a drop of poison, eating away at his thoughts 'til it rose to the surface.

What would Sirius think of him now....?

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

            Snape barely refrained from cursing every soul he saw on his way toward the Headmaster's office, scaring a multitude of students nevertheless. The Headmaster had asked to see him after dinner, something about the 'Serpent's Children,' apparently. It was not a subject he was in the mood for at the moment, he was far too furious with the Potter brat to be coherent enough for proper planning. 'Forget detention,' Snape thought, shooting a deadly glare at a passing Hufflepuff, 'I'll devise some way to get that brat expelled,' Then at least he'd never have to stare at those eyes again, never see her every time he looked at the boy. But more importantly, he wanted revenge. Potter had perhaps taunted him with the most painful idea possible, struck a chord that sent his mind reeling with fresh pain, not felt since 15 years before. No one hurt him like that, no one was allowed to even hint at a pain buried that deeply. And to be taunted with it, have it thrown in his face as some sort of joke after digging up memories out of respect for his mother. 'It's your own fault,' he reminded himself, growling deeply as he approached the Headmaster's door, 'You're the one that told him you'd raped his mother, what did you expect? For it to be passed off as nothing? Not to come back and haunt you? You're a fool, Severus...a damned fool....' he thought darkly, and then straightened himself up, composing his face into a blank expression. He knocked on the door quietly, praying that the meeting would be quick.

            "Come in, Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding particularly tired. Severus cocked an eyebrow in concern, and stepped through the door. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, rubbing his forehead lightly. A letter sat on the desk in front of him, slightly tattered from being read and reread countless times. "Have a seat, Severus. Would you care for some tea?" he asked, motioning toward the chair across from the desk.

            "No thank you, Albus," Severus replied flatly, taking the proffered seat. "What have you discovered? You mentioned something about the Serpent's Children?" he asked, and Dumbledore nodded, turning in his chair to face him directly.

            "A woman by the name of Mrs. Templeton sent me this letter a few days ago, and then came to visit me herself. Some rather shocking news has arisen, concerning one of the students in this school," Dumbledore said, then sighed deeply and folded his hands atop the desk. Snape raised another eyebrow, watching him curiously.

            "You don't mean...that one of them is here, inside the school?" he asked incredulously. To his surprise, Dumbledore nodded, looking up at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

            "Yes, one of our students is a Serpent‘s Child. Mrs. Templeton used to be a nanny for the student in question.  I called you up here in the hopes that you would be able to shed some light on the situation, since you saw most of the women who were taken. I was hoping you could prove dear Mrs. Templeton wrong," Dumbledore said, his voice very low and tired. Something was seriously disturbing him, and Severus nearly forgot about his previous fury, now intensely curious. Dumbledore never got upset unless there was a very good reason.

            "Which student is suspected?" he asked, quickly running over a list of the women who's been taken in his head. However, just as they hadn't five years ago, none of the women's last names matched with that of any student, with the obvious exception. There was no possible way he could have allowed one to slip through unnoticed, the Templeton woman was probably just an old crackpot.

            "Harry Potter," Dumbledore said, and Severus froze, eyes fixed on some point on the far wall.

            "I...don't believe I heard you right, Albus. Would you mind repeating that?" he said, blinking a few times. Surely he hadn't said Potter, there was no way that--

           

            "Harry Potter is believed to be the Serpent's Child, Severus, as ludicrous as it may seem,” Dumbledore repeated, leaning his forehead against his folded hands. He was staring down at the desk, eyes fixed on the letter. “Mrs. Templeton worked for Lily Potter during the last month of her pregnancy, and then for several months afterward. Up until the time the Fidelis Charm was cast, actually,” Dumbledore continued, and then sighed heavily. “Everything she told me fits perfectly, Severus, but I can’t believe it...I just can’t,” he said, shaking his head. Severus remained perfectly silent, his eyes wide and fixed upon the Headmaster as if he’d never seen the man before in his life. Was this some sort of elaborate joke? He wondered. Had Potter talked to Dumbledore about their little conversation and somehow convinced him to join in on the prank? But Albus would never do such a thing, not with the knowledge of how painful the subject was, even if he didn’t know the immediate reason.

            “Impossible,” Severus scoffed, turning his head away, though the words were spoken without their usual conviction. “What proof did she have? Or was she simply begging favors?” Severus snapped, managing to curve his lips into a sneer.

“Mrs. Templeton asked nothing of me, Severus. She came to me because of recent events in the news, with the families being murdered and all the suspicion about the Serpent’s Children rising. She wanted me to protect Harry from the Ministry, in case they got the idea in their heads to finish the job they started so many years ago,” Dumbledore said, then leaned back heavily in his chair. “She claimed to have helped with the birth, as James was off on a mission for me at the time. I remember that, myself,” Dumbledore added, his eyes flashing with a hint of pain. “She said that Lily revealed some very disturbing news to her. She said that Lily told her she’d been raped by a Death Eater, and was too ashamed to tell James about it. I didn’t believe her at first, but....” Dumbledore shook his head again, abruptly leaning forward and folding up the letter on the desk.

            “But?” Severus asked, barely managing to keep his voice and expression calm. However, he was anything but. ‘Don’t let it be true...’ he thought desperately, repeating the thought over and over again, ‘Please, god...don’t let it be true....’

            “She knew about the Serpent’s Mark. She said that she saw it on Harry’s forehead after he was born. That alone was the reason Lily told her about it, she didn’t want anyone to know,” Dumbledore continued, his hands folded awkwardly upon the desk. Then his expression turned grave, and he turned his eyes up from the desk. “Severus, was Lily Potter captured by the Death Eaters?” he asked, his eyes as cold and hard as a winter’s day.

            Severus felt as if something had cracked inside, as if a wall deep within his mind had split right down the center.  The Cruciatus itself was nothing in comparison to the searing pain that wrapped its fingers around his heart, squeezing his chest so tightly that he forgot to breath. Tiny spots danced across his blurred vision, but he blinked fiercely and clenched his eyes, not caring what impression he gave Dumbledore.

            “Potter is not....” he began, but the words broke off, and he fell silent, eyes still clenched tightly shut.

            “Harry is not James’ son, unless you can prove Mrs. Templeton wrong,” Dumbledore replied, and Severus sucked in a deep, shaky breath, “Severus, are you alright?” Dumbledore asked, his voice tinged with concern. Severus shook his head lightly, clenching his jaws tightly. ‘Potter isn’t James’ son….’ he repeated in his mind, struggling to force the words into coherency.

            “How did she disguise it?” he asked, unable to completely keep the emotion from his voice.

            “Glamourie. Lily was an exceptional glamourie practitioner, I’ve never seen anyone better,” Dumbledore said, then continued, “Severus, I know this is a painful subject for you...but I must know. Harry must be told and proper steps taken if it is the truth,” he finished, and Severus leaned forward in the chair, fingers wound back across his scalp as he hung his head.

            “He already knows, Albus,” he said, and heard the man make a slightly surprised sound.

            “What do you mean?” he asked warily, and Severus gave a short, dry laugh.

            “He said he’d learned it in Transfiguration...glamourie of course, probably that bloody ‘Revelo’ spell Minerva’s so fond of....” Snape rambled, laughing dryly again. “God...I’m such fool...such a bloody fool....” he muttered, shaking his head.

            “Severus, please...what are you on about? I need you to tell me what you know....” Dumbledore said, though his voice was soft with concern, he’d never seen the Potions Master acting in even a remotely similar manner.

            “Yes, Lily was captured,” Severus replied, winding his fingers tighter in his hair. It’s true then, isn’t it? He thought, taking another shaky breath. He felt sick, he doubted he’d be able to sit up even if he wanted to. It was not supposed to be this way, Lily wasn’t supposed to bear a Death Eater’s child, she wasn’t supposed to live with that pain, with that horror. She was supposed to go back to the comfort of her husband, and then carry on with her life again. Had she hurt this much? He wondered. Had she nearly died from pain, when she saw that mark on her child’s face? When she knew where he was from, how horrified her husband would be? No, for her it was probably worse, he wouldn’t doubt that for a second. A thought arose again, taunting him again, ‘He’s not James’ son....’

            “You saw her? Why didn’t you tell me before?” Dumbledore asked, though his voice was weak and tired, his suspicions confirmed.

            “Because I was the one who raped her,” Severus admitted, sucking in several quick breaths through his clenched teeth. ‘Potter’s my...oh god...he’s my son,’ he thought finally, and he heard Albus gasp sharply, and a tea-cup hitting the desk with a sudden ‘clink.’ He wanted to die, right then. With that thought crashing through his mind, slowly ripping him apart from the inside out, he wanted to curl up and die.

            “Severus...you took her?!” Albus stammered in surprise, and Severus fought to keep himself from shaking, from screaming out a furious ‘yes!’ at the top of his lungs. He had to get out of here, he couldn’t take any more questioning, he couldn’t sit here with Albus’ eyes boring into him.

            “God, Albus...he’s my son...he’s my son....” he whispered, struggling to drive the foreign phrase into his mind, to shatter the wall of pain and fear that rose at the revelation. But he couldn’t force himself to accept it, to believe that he’d caused Lily that much more pain, that just minutes before he’d been yelling at his son in the hallway, after the boy had admitted possibly the most painful thing in his life. ‘You’re such a fool, Severus, such a damned, bloody fool....’ he told himself again, and abruptly stood up from the chair, whirling toward the door. “I’ll be in my rooms, Albus,” he said flatly, then stalked toward the door, desperate to be back down in his dungeons.

            “Severus!” he heard the Headmaster call, but he walked faster, practically taking the stairs at a dead run. He heard his name called again, and he continued to ignore it, struggling to banish all thought save that of his destination from his mind. The  halls were nearly empty as he went, with any student who happened to be in sight practically diving for cover once they sighted him. Every corner he turned he felt a surge of fear clutch his heart, fear that he’d see that familiar pair of green eyes glinting in fear. He didn’t know what he’d do if he saw him then, if he’d freeze in his tracks or ignore him, or even yell at him to get out of the bloody way. Confusion was the driving force behind his every thought, laced with pain as Lily’s face appeared in his mind, twisted in agony. And then Potter’s face, awash with terror yet firm in resolve, yelling out the truth at the top of his lungs. ‘Perhaps it's a good thing your parents are not alive, Potter,’ he remembered growling, ‘They'd be loathe to call you their son.’

            “MOVE!” Snape roared at a Slytherin who just happened to be standing in the hall. His rooms were just down another hallway, only that much further, he thought. ‘Only that much further ‘til what? Relief? Until you break down and wreck nearly everything in sight? Bloody lotta good that’ll do, you can’t run,’ his thoughts continued, and he knew it was true. He couldn’t hide from his thoughts, couldn’t hide from Lily’s face, from her screams, from Albus’ words and his own. As he flew around the corner to the last hallway, another thought began repeating itself in his mind, over and over again, taunting and earth shattering at the same time.

‘Harry Potter is my son.....’

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

            Hogsmeade was nearly empty, Harry realized as he stood outside the candy shop. It wasn’t surprising though, with the way the rain pounded down and muddied the streets, and the lightning flashed a little too close for comfort. It was also nearly pitch dark, with the clouds blocking the moonlight and only a dim glow escaping the shop windows. Harry really didn’t care though, and he began walking down the streets, soaked robe clutched tightly about him. Only one other person had walked by so far, and that had been an old man with an umbrella, engrossed in a damp newspaper. The road was nearly a giant puddle, the cobblestones laced with mud and dotted with footprints near the shops. Harry left his own trail in the mud, his shoes making a rhythmic sucking sound each time he lifted a foot from the mud. Lightning flashed again, and the windows of the nearest shop rattled violently, and Harry noticed an odd shadow nearby. Turning slightly, Harry saw a boy about his age leaning against the side of the shop, his short brown hair slicked by the rain. What made Harry abruptly turn and continue walking was what he spotted on the boy’s cheek. The Serpent’s Mark. The boy didn’t follow, and after about a block Harry began to slow down again, remembering Dumbledore’s warning about leaving the school grounds.

            “I don’t suppose he’d care if he knew I was one of them, though,” he muttered to himself, wrapping his arms tight against the cold. He knew he should probably go back anyway, go talk to Dumbledore about the whole situation. But....he couldn’t. He liked Dumbledore too much, he didn’t want to see his face twisted with fear and shock, and possibly disgust. He didn’t want the man to think of him as something less than ‘Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.’ Stopping, Harry lowered his head and stared at the muddy ground, mud caked wetly on his shoes. Was his fame the only reason Dumbledore liked him so much? Or was it because he had defeated the Dark Lord? Just a day before Harry would have scoffed at the idea, but now he was not so sure. It was no secret that Dumbledore had liked his....James, but was that the reason? So unto the father, so as to the son? Frowning, Harry started walking again, nearly colliding with a figure in the street ahead of him.

            “Well. If it isn’t Harry Potter, out of his cage,” a familiar voice taunted, and Harry froze. He looked up slowly, and stood face to face with the boy he’d seen near the Quidditch field.

            “You!” Harry said, and then backed up a few steps. The boy shook his head, wagging one finger in warning.

            “Nuh uh, you don’t want to go trying to escape. Lord Voldemort wants his revenge, and we’re going to help our master,” he said, and Harry stopped. ‘We’re?’ he thought, and turned slowly around. Behind him stood three more people his age, each with a small serpent marring some portion of their faces. “You’re getting it now,” the boy laughed, and Harry turned back to face him, his face twisted in an angry scowl.

            “Who says I‘m going to try and escape?” Harry said, his mouth curving in a half-smile. The boy stared at him in confusion for a moment, then it turned into a frown. Harry didn’t wait to hear his next words, but rather dashed to his left at lightning speed, slipping smoothly between the two nearest shops.

            “AFTER HIM YOU DIMWITS!” the boy yelled at his companions, and Harry kept right on running past the buildings. He kept going off into the trees beyond, sloshing wildly in the muddy ground. There was a loud splashing coming from behind him, but he kept on running, struggling to increase his speed. Why had he been such an idiot? He should’ve just listened to Dumbledore, he thought. Lightning flashed above, and Harry saw the trees just ahead. Pulling his wand quickly from his waistband, he ran faster across a patch of firmer ground, clutching it like the lifeline it may prove to be.

            Behind him, his pursuers sped up too, their animated yelling muffled by the howling wind and constant thunder. ‘What I wouldn’t give for my invisibility cloak right now....’ he thought, and sped past the first tree. It was much darker inside the forest than he’d expected, the ground was only lighted sporadically, with each flash of lightning in the sky above. He couldn’t give up his position and use his wand to light the way, so he slowed down instead, changing his course by 90 degrees. Hopefully they‘d be making enough noise to not hear him, and would continue to run straight instead of turning.

            Harry kept running, continuing on until his legs felt like jelly and he was forced to stop for rest and breath. He pushed up against a tree, hands on his knees. ‘What a day this has been....’ he thought, ‘I run out of Potions class, yell at Professor Snape, and now I’m being chased by the Serpent’s Children. Maybe I’ll see Hagrid’s lion while I’m out here,’ he thought, and stood up straight, preparing to run again. He froze, eyes focused on the dark forest ahead of him. With the last lightning flash, he’d thought he’d seen something, several somethings actually. He waited silently, clutching the wand tighter. Something moved nearby, and the lightning flashed again.

            Only four feet away he saw them, the lightning reflecting on their pale faces. They stood perfectly still in the dark, eyes all fixed upon him hungrily. They didn’t even look as if they were breathing, each standing there ghost-like in the dark, like the dead risen from their graves to claim the living. As the lightning flashed again, Harry saw that more had collected, with at least six now watching him from the trees ahead. Spells would be worthless, he realized, for held ready in each of their hands was a wand, held firm and raised. Harry pressed tighter up against the tree, watching in fear as they seemed to draw closer with each flash of lightning, as if they moved only in the dark. Something crunched from somewhere close, and Harry jerked in surprise when he saw a pale face leering from around the edge of the tree, rain dripping down the waxy skin. Harry inched away from the tree, wand raised against his chest. He had to do something, before they decided to attack...but what? The lightning flashed again, and he saw a dozen pairs of dilated eyes drawing nearer yet again. They were visibly moving now, and Harry had an idea. A chancy one, yes, but it was something....Before he could try anything however, there was a sudden spark of light as one of the figures whispered one, horrible word....

            “Crucio,” they said, and Harry fell to the ground, screaming and thrashing in agony. It was as if for the briefest of moments, everything had gone white, every nerve ending alive with searing pain. He gritted his teeth, trying to fight off the pain, to ignore the fire soaring through ever limb, every fiber of his flesh. It seemed to last an eternity, wave after wave of pain that kept him on the ground, clawing at clumps of wet grass. Then, it stopped just as suddenly as it began. Struggling for breath, Harry rose to his knees, panting and battling the fuzziness in his brain. Now, he had to do it now, or he’d never live to see morning...it had to work.....

            “LUMOS SOLEM!!!” Harry bellowed, wand pointed directly into the midst of the Serpent’s children. For a brief moment, he held his eyes tightly shut, listening as screams of pain rose from each and every one as they were blinded by the brilliant light. Then, he stood and ran as fast as he could, struggling violently with the pain still coursing through his muscles.. They wouldn’t be out long, he’d only bought himself a little time. Maybe he could hide? He wondered, and paused, sighting a thick crop of bushes nearby. He dove behind them quickly, huddling his knees to his chest in a renewed flare of pain. What to do? What to do?! ‘Think, Harry...think!’ he commanded himself, rapping a fist angrily against his knee.

            Okay, what did he know about them? He asked himself, teeth gritted in thought. They obeyed Voldemort, okay, that didn’t help much. The tattoo was just as worthless an idea. They were after him because he was Voldemort’s enemy, because he was ‘Harry Potter.’ He stopped, eyes wide as another crazy idea popped into his head. Yes, they were after him because he was Harry Potter, because they recognized him. Or, more precisely, they recognized the disguise his mother had cast on him. ‘Damn it, what was that spell we took notes on today?!’ he asked, pounding his palm against his forehead. Then, he remembered, and prayed like a dying man that it would work. Turning his wand to point at himself, he cleared his throat and sat up straighter, clearing his mind.

            “Persona Terminus!” he said, attempting to say it precisely as McGonagall had. At first, he was positive it hadn’t worked. There was no immediate flash of light, no loud noise or grotesque rending of the flesh. But then he felt an odd sensation, a vague tingling up across his skin. It grew stronger with each second, and then he heard a high-pitched, almost metallic ringing. ‘Hurry up,’ he thought, ‘If they find me I’m dead...god, they’ll kill me!’ And then there was a loud sound, like that of shattering glass. A bright flash of lightning cracked through the sky, and Harry saw it. A billion small specs of reflected light, suddenly flying off from him into the darkness. It was done.

            Harry quickly rose to his feet, not pausing to examine whatever had happened. Practically ripping the Gryffindor tie from his neck, he shoved it deep in a pocket. Then he bent down and scooped up a handful of mud, and caked it messily over the Gryffindor coat of arms on his robe’s shoulder. There. If the spell had indeed worked, then they wouldn’t have anything to connect him with their victim. Clutching his wand tightly, Harry headed back out of the forest, struggling to keep his pace slow enough to not be suspicious. He didn’t see any more of the Serpent’s children, and he sped up after a few minutes, careful to avoid the many roots and shrubs lining the forest floor.

            He didn’t feel any different, he realized as he reached the edge of the forest. His glasses were gone, he noticed when he reached up to wipe a lock of long black hair out of his face. He didn’t mind the glasses much, but he didn’t pause to explore any more. At least he knew the spell had worked, he thought, and began running back toward the nearby town.

            Slipping quietly back between a pair of buildings, Harry nearly turned around and ran back the other way when he looked out into the street. That boy, Malfoy’s son, was standing in the middle of the street, looking off into the rain. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and began walking purposefully toward the candy shop, at the end of the block.

            “You there!” the boy called out as he walked past him, Harry turned slightly and gave him a cold look, hoping the boy would decide to leave him alone. “Have the others caught Potter yet?” he asked, and Harry remained silent for a moment, just then remembering that he himself had the Serpent’s Mark.

            “No, they’re still searching,” he replied darkly, pretending to be annoyed with them. The boy bought it, nodding slightly before turning back to watch the street. Harry nearly cried out in relief, and headed back down the street toward the candy shop.

            He arrived a minute later, thankful to find the shopkeeper snoozing behind the counter as he brushed quickly past, desperate to be once again inside the dark tunnel. Before he knew it, he was down the hatch into the dark, following the light of his wand. His muscles were beginning to seize up, the aftereffects of the brief Cruciatus taking hold now that the adrenaline had worn off. He struggled to keep going, hobbling more dramatically as he neared the end of the tunnel. At last he made it to the end, collapsing to his knees against the wall. He could barely see for the pounding in his head, and the fierce throbbing that caused his muscles to twitch oddly. He couldn’t move anymore, he realized, struggling even to remain on his knees. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes, struggling valiantly to rise again, but succeeding only in falling further toward the ground. Finally, after relenting to the pain in his mind and his limbs, he curled up on the cold ground, knees drawn to his chest, and succumbed to the pitch black of unconsciousness.

----End Chapter 7----