Summoned

Chapter 15: Orestes

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel [the Dark Mark on their arms]? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

July 22 1995 (Day 30, afternoon)

The thing about summer break was that there wasn't much difference in the days as they passed. Thursdays, such as this one, were not filled with particular classes or Quidditch practices or exams or meetings. They were, simply, Thursdays, not unlike Mondays or Saturdays.

This Thursday, however, already promised to be a day to forget, although that enticing desire was exactly what would not happen.

Severus presented himself to Dumbledore at two p.m., at his office. He was feeling especially lousy: the hemorrhaging in his body, the swelling in his limbs, his nausea from swallowing blood all night, and the excruciating headache he'd fought all morning merely increased his sour disposition and desire to crawl back into bed and ignore the world for at least another 24 hours.

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted as he entered the man's office. The Headmaster looked refreshed. And his office was otherwise empty, which made Severus wonder if the rest of the wards and protections around the school had finally been set.

"Headmaster." He spoke carefully, even more carefully than usual. Moving his lips hurt! Every move of every limb and body part was agonizing. He'd had to adjust all his clothing this morning to take into account the swollen limbs, the painful bruises around his ankles, his feet... The waistband of his slacks still felt like a cord binding him: the swelling in his gut was still there, blood still swirling around in his stomach, waiting to be vomited or passed through his intestines. He'd been pissing blood since last night, and he knew it wouldn't stop any time soon.

"You don't need to wear that," Dumbledore said, nodding to the hood Severus had donned to cover his face as he passed through the halls. "I've already seen."

He didn't answer: it made him feel a little less conspicuous, even though he'd met no one in the corridors, and wasn't likely to.

"There's going to be a meeting of the Order in a couple hours," Dumbledore said, leaving his desk and making his way to the ante-chamber area. "I need you there."

He nodded. And regretted the movement instantly. "As you wish. - Are you ready?"

Dumbledore tried to see past the hood, and when he couldn't, he simply reached out and pushed it off Severus' face.

He reacted without thinking, whipping out his wand and aiming it at the defenseless Headmaster: and then, two heartbeats later, he took a long breath and lowered it, the words, "I'm sorry," whispered in the air between them.

But Dumbledore didn't let him put the wand back. He grabbed it and stuck it in his own robes, and said, "I think I'll feel better with it there until we're done. Now," he continued, and motioned Severus to one of the guest chairs. The Potions master took his seat, his movements slow and stiff. Dumbledore sat across from him and, for a few moments, just looked at him.

"I'd really prefer not to do this, Severus. Have you put your mind to remembering? Do you think you can tell me -"

"If I did," he said slowly, not parting his teeth, "I would have. I cannot! - Please. Get this over with."

Dumbledore sighed and pulled his wand. Severus met his eyes and tried not to blink when the word, "Legilimens!" sounded...

The snake was curled around the Dark Lord's shoulders, its eyes staring into Severus' soul... "My faithful servant, Orestes..."

"We know you've been trying to tell us what happened. You know we must find out. And we know that - that the Dark Lord has put a spell on you to keep you from telling us. Albus is here, Severus. He's going to try to penetrate your mind and find the answers."

No!

"Lucius, my slippery friend..."

No! No! Not that!

"Dumbledore trusts you," the snake whispered in his ear. "Good."

"I own you, Severus."

"I've waited a very long time for this, Snivellus!"

"Be sure he's still useful to me when you've finished, Malfoy."

"Kneel, Snivellus!"

No! No, get away, stop!

His face was in the dirt, Lucius was behind him...

"NO!"

Dumbledore broke the spell and Severus sagged forward, his head in his hands, his body shaking from the memories. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe...

"Severus."

He couldn't move. Not yet.

He heard Dumbledore get up, heard him summon something, and smelled tea and something else - Calming Draught. He forced his eyes open and tried to sit up, but he was too weak even to manage that.

Dumbledore handed him a steaming goblet and he let Dumbledore wrap his hand around it and guide it to his mouth. He drank, tasting the tea and the draught which Dumbledore had mingled, and slowly, the potion began to work and he was able to sit upright.

The look on Dumbledore's face was awful: the man was pale and every wrinkle on his face had become a deep trench of anguish. He looked away.

"I am - so sorry," the older man finally said. He had crouched in front of Severus to give him the draught. He wrapped his hands around Severus' swollen ones as they cupped the goblet. He wanted to pull away, but Dumbledore had him too tightly.

"I can't - I can't ask you to do this any more."

He shook his head, but he was too weak to say anything yet.

After a few minutes, Dumbledore reached into his robes and handed Severus his wand, then got up and went back to his desk. "He saw nothing of value," the man finally said. "But I'm concerned about Orestes."

It was the safest topic Severus could think of at the moment, and so he gathered his composure and the little strength he had left and responded. "Have you ever thought - he might work for - the Dark Lord? Is there any reason..."

Dumbledore shook his head. Severus drank more of the hot, potion-mingled tea.

"He treated the Longbottoms," he said. "I worked with him when I was - much younger." He took off his half-moon spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I can't imagine he would turn."

Severus finished the drink in his hands, then struggled to stand and put the goblet on a nearby table. "If he were loyal to the Dark Lord, he's had ample opportunity to harm me. Or you. Or Professor McGonagall."

"Yes, if that were his purpose. But if he was to spy on us?"

"You called him. He couldn't have anticipated that you'd look for him."

Dumbledore considered that, then put his glasses back on. "Volde- Riddle could well have anticipated you'd need Orestes' help," he said. "He knew that once I realized what had been done to you, I'd look for him."

"That would imply that the Dark Lord specifically put me into a condition that would need Orestes' skills. Which," he added unhappily, "means that there was something he was to accomplish that we have no idea about."

"He was in Albania when I found him."

That wasn't something Severus had known. And while living in Albania, where the Dark Lord had hidden himself away for so many years, wasn't in itself damning, the fact that so powerful a wizard as Orestes had retired there while the Dark Lord had been planning his return was.

"He doesn't know anything the Dark Lord doesn't already know," he said slowly. "He saw inside - my mind." He felt some of the congealing blood in his stomach beginning to churn dangerously. "But the Dark Lord already knew - everything he found." His stomach was cramping, badly.

"Orestes has seen your loyalty to me," Dumbledore objected, his voice quiet and unhappy. "He's been here, he knows where your true loyalty lies."

"And he's had ample time to tell the Dark Lord." He shook his head. "I would not still be alive if he doubted my allegiance to him."

"You're not much better than alive as it is!"

He sighed. This was not a battle he felt like fighting. Dumbledore's concern for him was going to become very tiresome very quickly. He needed to put a halt to that. Now.

"I am trusted. I have brought him useful intelligence. I am being taken back into his confidence. At this rate, I believe shortly..."

"You've been tortured and poisoned, and he's let another 'faithful servant' torture you! I'm not convinced that he considers you an asset!"

He scowled, which wasn't comfortable. "The Dark Lord does not operate on the same principles you do, Dumbledore. His beneficence is not displayed with medals and plaques! Believe me, I am not under suspicion."

He waited, but Dumbledore didn't seem convinced. He wanted to finish this as soon as possible. He was fairly sure the tea and draught mixture was not going to stay down: something internal was still bleeding and his stomach was already churning dangerously.

"Headmaster." The man looked up. "If Orestes is working for the Dark Lord, there are only two ways that I am aware of for us to know for sure."

"Legilimens and - what? Veritaserum?"

He nodded and tried not to enjoy the thought of getting Orestes back for the attacks the Healer had launched against his mind.

Dumbledore sighed. "First, let's get through this meeting of the Order."

Severus didn't like the sound of that: it sounded as if Dumbledore had bad news, and he really didn't think he couldn't afford any more right now.

"Then I'll decide what to do with Orestes."

"If he's still here." Dumbledore looked at him sharply. "If he's working for the Dark Lord, he has to have been in communication with him. - And he might now be alerted to the fact that we know. He might leave."

For a moment, Dumbledore's gaze went out of focus. Then he stood from his desk and came back to stand in front of Severus. "Remus and the others have had a terrible time securing the wards around the northeast corner of the castle," he said. "Remus was considering that - something Dark might be preventing them from taking. Orestes was the first to suggest resetting the barriers."

He thought about that. Given that he had, himself, used the keys to removing the charms to be able to Disapparate from here when the Dark Lord called, it would be logical to assume that, if Orestes were in contact with Voldemort, he might had left himself a portal of sorts once the Order had started resetting the charms.

It was in that same area that he had easily passed the day he'd gone to Knockturn Alley. Arthur Weasley's skills, however, had not broken through the charms Dumbledore's people had placed on it.

"Where is he now?"

"I'm not sure. I was preparing to tell him we didn't need him to stay any longer. Although he seems to be enjoying himself here."

Severus didn't bother replying to that. He pulled his hood back over his head. The act pushed his long hair forward and it fell partly across his face, which was so sensitive even having the few strands of hair touch it was painful. He carefully pushed them away. "I'll check the boundary," he volunteered. He needed Dumbledore to believe he was capable of normal activities: he'd be able to return to his dungeons soon enough, and there he wouldn't need to put on an act.

"I'll have Remus and -"

"If there is Dark magic there, Headmaster, I would be more sensitive to it than anyone else. You know that."

Dumbledore stared at him, but it was harder to do with the hood back up: an added benefit, the Potions master thought.

"Very well." Dumbledore went back to his desk.

At that moment, Severus' body stopped cooperating. He raced out into the empty corridor and conjured a pail into which he spent the next several minutes vomiting. He was shaking and sweating when he finished, and he meant simply to lean back against the wall until he could move. But he felt an arm wrapped around his shoulders and Dumbledore Vanished the pail. Then, because he couldn't summon the strength to resist, he allowed Dumbledore to herd him back into the office.

Dumbledore sat him in the chair and then leaned down. "Severus, surely Madam Pomfrey could -"

He shook his head and wiped his face with his hand. "Nothing. - Dark magic. No cure. Just - have to wait - for it to wear off." He closed his eyes and leaned forward, his stomach still cramping violently. "A few minutes," he muttered. "Be fine."

It turned out to be close to half an hour, but eventually he was able to sit up and, with something of a struggle, stand on his own. "I'll check the perimeter," he said, his voice forced. "When - is the meeting?"

He finally looked at the Headmaster: Dumbledore looked severely unhappy. "Five," he answered. "I'd really like you to be there, Severus, but -"

"I'll be there," he said firmly, and then stumbled out of the office.

He leaned against the wall for a few minutes, wiping sweat from his forehead. He felt the world swirling around him and closed his eyes until it stopped. Then back down the rotating staircase (a very bad idea for someone who already felt nauseous), and then out the main hall to the grounds.

He caught sight of Lupin not far away, right where he needed to go. He'd have much preferred not to run into anyone, but there seemed to be no avoiding it.

"Severus!" Lupin greeted, his face wrinkled with either concentration on his task or concern. Severus prayed it was the former.

"Lupin. I'm here at Dumbledore's request. We think - you thought there might be something here - preventing us from putting the enchantments in place?"

Lupin nodded, tilting his head, trying to see past the hood. "You have an idea?"

"Unfortunately." He pulled his wand and aimed it into the air, making an arc with it and trying to feel any magical force. It was hard through the pain he was in, but eventually, after three passes of his wand above his head, he began to sense - something. Something that no one at the castle had put there. At least, no one working for the Order.

He put his wand back into his pocket. "There's a portal here," he told Lupin. He was beginning to feel terribly weak: the magic he'd just used had taken more strength than he'd expected. "I'll tell Dumbledore - at the meeting."

Lupin was watching him intently, and he didn't like that at all.

"You're going to the meeting?" the werewolf asked. "Like this? Severus, you can't -"

"Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do! Do not presume on our -" he stopped himself, appalled. He'd almost said "friendship".

They were not friends! They were simply not enemies: there was a huge difference, he reminded himself angrily. What in Merlin's name had gotten into him?

He took two long, deep breaths and turned away. Unfortunately, Lupin was following. "Severus, use some common sense! You can barely stand -" And as he said it, Severus faltered and tripped on a root. Lupin grabbed him from behind, kept him from falling on his face, and then just stood there, holding him up.

He wanted to shake the man off, but he couldn't even manage that much strength.

"Come on," Lupin said gruffly, and put Severus' arm over his shoulders, walking him back to the castle.

At least, Severus considered, he didn't try to get him to go to the hospital wing. He simply half-dragged him back down to the dungeons, to his chambers. Once inside, he let Severus go.

"I'll see you at the meeting, then," Lupin said coldly, and left without further ado.

Severus sank into his chair and pulled his cloak around himself for warmth. He was shivering from the pain and weakness, and he had to stop that before he showed himself at the meeting. The Order members - especially Black - would smell blood in the water, and he wasn't in the mood to fight off any comments that resulted from that.

By sheer force of will, and several doses of Strengthening Solution, he was able to control the shivering. By four-thirty, he felt as good as he knew he was going to any time soon.

He grabbed a pair of black gloves and slipped them on; they were tight and he quickly loosened them to be more comfortable around his swollen fingers. He put up his hood, grabbed his broom, and went out to the front entrance. He had expected to see Dumbledore or Lupin there; but he didn't wait for them. Either they had already left or would follow on their own. He was grateful for the solitude.

By the time he'd landed in Hogsmeade, he knew he'd have to stop before going on. Once again, his stomach rejected its contents and he found himself bent over in an alley bringing up more blood and some of the solution he'd taken. Once he was done and had steadied himself, he turned on the spot and Disapparated...

The door to number twelve, Grimmauld Place was closed, and he tapped his wand to open it. It didn't open. He tapped his wand again: it still didn't open. Frustrated, he knocked on the door. Seconds later, Molly Weasley opened it, and looked surprised.

"Molly," he said.

"Oh, uh - Professor Snape?" She tried to check under his hood to make sure it was him, but he ducked his head.

"Yes. I was told the Order was having a meeting here."

"Oh, uh, well, yes, but - well, Dumbledore said he didn't think you'd be able to be here..." Her words faded out as he swept past her and strode quickly down the hallway to the meeting room.

It seemed as if the meeting had started, but only just. Arthur's quill had recorded only the date and time of the meeting, and those in attendance.

"You will please add me to that list," he snapped, glaring at Weasley as he took the empty seat next to Tonks and propped his broom against the wall behind him.

Alastor Moody was here this time, and his cold, magical eye was fixed on him. He knew Moody could see his face perfectly well, but fortunately the man said nothing.

Near the end of the table was Dumbledore, whose look of displeasure was obvious. He glanced quickly at Lupin, next to Black, who studied the table.

Anger, more than anything, was keeping the nausea at bay and the shivering to a controllable level, especially with his large cape concealing most of his movements.

"Add Professor Snape to the list of attendees," Arthur Weasley said, glancing at Dumbledore. "We have a quorum?"

That was seconded. And the meeting was called to order. He kept his head down just enough that whatever the hood wasn't concealing his hair was.

After the first five minutes of preliminaries, Arthur turned the meeting over to the Headmaster.

"Most of you know why we're here," he said, his voice low but stern. He glanced again at Severus, who noted that everyone else seemed suddenly uncomfortable. Tonks, Lupin and Molly were all studying the table now. Kingsley and Moody looked at him, but Kingsley turned away as soon as Severus looked back. Apparently, "most of you" meant everyone but him.

But what really concerned him, what put him on his guard, was that Black didn't even try to look him in the eye.

"Headmaster," he interrupted, "if I may - before you begin. I have something urgent to report - about what we last discussed in your office."

At that, Lupin looked up, as if salvaged from a sinking ship. "Yes, Dumbledore, if we may?"

"We?" Severus snapped. He regretted it as soon as he did: Lupin shot him a look that indicated he was trying to save Snape's skin, and it was then that the nausea returned and the knowledge that he was about to be attacked - again, at this table - was certain.

He tore his gaze from the werewolf and looked at Dumbledore. The Headmaster nodded to Arthur, who muttered instructions to the note-taking quill.

"I investigated the northeast quadrant of the grounds of Hogwarts. There is, indeed, a - an unknown," he said, deciding against using the term "Dark", "portal there. It's what has resisted your attempts at resealing the wards and enchantments. Since it's very close to the main entrance doorway, I assume it's being used for Disapparating and Apparating without leaving the grounds."

There were distressed murmurs around the table, and it was Tonks who finally asked, "Who put it there?"

Severus waited for Dumbledore to answer the question, but he didn't.

"We believe it was the Healer, Orestes." Damn! This was going to lead them directly to what had happened the night before.

"We have reason to - suspect Orestes' loyalties," Dumbledore added, and Severus hoped that would deflect the questions. "I asked Professor McGonagall to keep an eye on him until I return. But - we may have a problem there."

Black, unusually silent until now, finally leaned forward on the table. "Why do you suspect him? You think he's working for You-Know-Who?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I can't be sure yet. After this meeting, I'll be - trying to determine the answer to that."

"But why do you suspect him?" Black repeated. "What's he done?" With that question, he did glance very quickly in Severus' direction, then looked back at the Headmaster.

"We don't know what he might have done yet. I'll - explain more later. Right now," he said firmly, "I wish to get to the original point of this meeting."

And once again, Severus noted, all eyes in the room began to look down, up, away from him, away from each other. He tried, once, to catch Lupin's eye: maybe the werewolf would be able to give him a clue. Everyone here knew the purpose of the meeting, except him.

He felt distinctly like vomiting. Again!

"We're here," Dumbledore said, taking a very deep breath, "because I don't believe we can continue using Severus as a spy for us."

"What?" he demanded. He was going to be sick, any minute now, he knew it. And he couldn't! He absolutely couldn't!

"Severus," Dumbledore said, lowering his voice as if he were trying to calm a wounded animal, "you've done a lot for the Order. But this - I can't in good conscience ask you to keep going back to Voldemort."

"I have his confidence," he said, enunciating every syllable carefully and slowly. "He will confide in me-"

"Take off your hood," Dumbledore ordered. "And your gloves."

"Dumbledore!" he growled menacingly.

"Do it, Severus. Now!"

He had two choices: resisting Dumbledore was the more stupid of the two. Slowly, he pulled his gloves from his hands, then pushed the hood off his head.

There were stunned, horrified gasps around the table: even Black made a noise to indicate that he was repulsed by what he saw.

"This," Dumbledore said, waving his hand in the direction of the Potions master, "is apparently the result of Voldemort's pleasure. We cannot ask him to continue doing this," he said, looking around the table. "We'll need to hide him-"

Severus shot from his seat. "You should have discussed this with me, Dumbledore!" he shouted at the older wizard. "Do you think there's anywhere I could go that the Dark Lord wouldn't find me? I lost my chance to flee when Karkaroff left, before I returned to the Dark Lord, and I assure you, he will find Karkaroff and kill him! I do not intend to die at the hands of the Dark Lord, or worse, one of his followers!

"For your information," he spat, looking around the table with malicious delight, "it was often the Dark Lord's pleasure for me to demonstrate my potions on myself. He sees it as a sign of total dedication to him that I do so."

He paused to take a breath and he sent a hot glare at everyone at the table. "I agreed to spy for you knowing exactly what that meant. This is war! There is no room for sentimentalism!"

"Severus," Dumbledore cut in sharply, also rising, "the price is too high!"

"You aren't paying the price, Dumbledore! I am! And I decide if it's too high, not you! And not these mealy, weak, emotional cretins you call friends!"

He pulled the hood back over his head and pulled his gloves back on, glaring from beneath the hood at the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "You can take my information or not. That's your choice. Mine is to continue doing what I have prepared myself for 13 years to do. I am taking the risks! And I will not crawl into some hole and hide from him and die a coward's death!"

He didn't wait for a response from anyone. He grabbed his broom and stalked out of the meeting. He heard someone scrambling after him and knew, from the sound and swiftness of the footsteps, that it wasn't Dumbledore. He figured it was Lupin, but he couldn't stop. He had to get out, he had to get away from everyone, now!

He pulled open the door and stepped outside. The cool evening air, which might have been welcome at other times, struck his face hard and the pain that had been barely tempered earlier flashed and burned. He had no time to pay attention to it. The coiling serpent in his gut was demanding release. He rounded the corner of the house and found a number of overgrown, untended bushes, into which he got sick.

He couldn't keep standing and he dropped to his knees. He knew someone was behind him, watching, waiting until he was finished. The humiliation of that merely added to everything else boiling up inside him. But as the waves of sickness passed, he realized that he was, in fact, able to control the surging anger. It took him another minute before he could control his breathing. Then he struggled to his feet, not yet turning around.

"Nice dramatic exit, Severus," Lupin said. "Of course, that last bit in the bushes detracts somehow from the effect."

Severus whirled on him, but Lupin held up a hand to stop the speech he'd begun preparing.

"I was talking with Mad-Eye before the meeting. He's heard things about Orestes. You might want to come back and listen to him."

"And you might want to mind - your - own - business - for a change!"

Lupin sighed heavily. "Fine. Look, they're taking a vote right now. I'm going back in there and voting to keep using you as a spy and to let You-Know-Who do whatever he bloody well he pleases to you. Happy? I'm sure Sirius will be more than eager to let you get yourself torn to pieces, and as his vote goes, so, I'm sure, will go everyone else's. Except, maybe, Mad-Eye." He took another breath. Then he backed away a couple steps and said, quietly, "It'll take a lot of courage to go back in there, Severus. But I'm sure you've got that in you."

He turned and went back into the grim, miserable house. A moment later, Severus followed, cursing Lupin in a dozen different ways for being so disgustingly right!

There was silence as he approached the room. He kept his hood up, but even so, most of the people in the room turned to look at him as he came in.

"The vote is six to two to keep you spying for us," Dumbledore said. He did not look happy. "Alastor and I voted against."

He sneered at the Headmaster, but of course, it was lost in the shadows of his hood. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." He took his seat again, putting his broom back where it had been before. "As for the other business?"

It was Mad-Eye who spoke. "Orestes. I've been out there the last couple weeks," he started, his magical blue eye still fixed on Severus. "Heard a few things, nothing I can confirm, though. If he's working for You-Know-Who, he's being pretty careful. What I heard - you could just chock it up to him being old and eccentric."

"What sort of things, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked, finally tearing his gaze away from Severus.

"Oh, this and that. Found a couple shops in Ilitia, where he's supposedly been trying to buy restricted ingredients: Antipodean Opaleye dragon eggs. Also, located another fellow there who said Orestes asked him to find some runespoor eggs for him. That's about as illegal as it comes!" He chuckled dryly and leaned in to the table, as if confiding a secret. "I think he got them for him, too. Said he's had more than one request for them in the last couple months."

He turned his eye back to Severus: and he looked away. In fact, one of the orders he'd placed in London last week was for runespoor eggs, through a black market source. Simply trying to purchase them would be enough to send him back to Azkaban if he were discovered. The thirteen-year-old charges against him were still hanging right over his head: the merest hint that he was engaging in any type of Dark magic would earn him a permanent cell on the North Sea.

Whether Moody actually knew he'd placed the order, or if he only suspected, Severus couldn't be sure. Moody was highly skilled at Legilimency, which Severus knew only too well.

"Anything else?" Dumbledore asked. He shot Severus a quick look, following Moody's gaze, then turned back to Mad-Eye.

"Like I said: it could be that he's just old and bored and lonely, trying to find something exciting to do. But in Albania?"

"You still haven't said why you suspect him," Black said, returning to his question once more. Severus had a feeling he knew the answer would come back to the Potions master and was looking forward to seeing him squirm.

In the seconds that it took for Dumbledore to answer, Severus decided to take the question himself, head-on. "When I last spoke with him, the Dark Lord referred to Orestes as his faithful servant." There! And he'd managed to avoid having to detail the use of the Befuddlement Draught or the fact that the Dark Lord had been using Legilimency on him. Again.

Black looked profoundly disappointed at the simple answer.

"If I may," Kingsley Shacklebolt broke into the silence in the room. "Things are beginning to heat up at the Ministry. Lucius Malfoy," he said, turning to Severus, "has been seen talking with Fudge near the Department of Mysteries several times."

"So - Voldemort is after the prophecy," Dumbledore concluded, as if this had been discussed already. And, Severus thought, with a tightening in his muscles that any mention of that prophecy always brought, it was quite possible that it had. He doubted he was being invited to every meeting of the Order, even now: there could have been dozens of meetings since his first that he had not been invited to.

"I suppose," Shacklebolt agreed, his voice, as always, quiet and smooth. "But I'm also saying that Malfoy's influence on the Minister shouldn't be ignored." Again, he looked at Severus.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I have no direct dealings with Malfoy at this time."

Kingsley nodded. "I don't know what he's up to, Professor, but I know he's trying to get Fudge to involve the Ministry more actively in the running of Hogwarts." He turned to Dumbledore. "Any hint of - Dark magic there could be fatal."

Dumbledore looked at Severus, then back to Shacklebolt. Severus said nothing.

"Anything else?" Arthur asked, looking around the room. There seemed not to be, and so, with the appropriate ceremonies, the meeting was adjourned.

Severus grabbed his broom and, once again, made his way down the hall of stuffed elf heads. He had gotten to the door by the time Dumbledore caught up with him.

"I need to have a word with the Weasleys," he said. "Wait for me."

Wonderful! He nodded once and Dumbledore hurried back to the others.

He heard a noise and looked up: hanging over the railing of the staircase were the Granger girl and Ron Weasley, as well as the twins, George and Fred, all of whom quickly made themselves immediately scarce. He grabbed his hood and pulled it back more securely around his face, wondering if it had fallen back far enough for them to notice his disfiguration. He hoped profoundly that it had not.

By the time Dumbledore returned, he had waited almost as long as he was willing to. Standing there in the hallway, as the others filed one-by-one (or, in Lupin and Black's case, two at a time) out of the meeting room and toward the kitchen, he found himself the recipient of long stares, as if each member wondered why he was still darkening the hallway.

Just as he was ready to go outside to wait, Dumbledore came up, put his hand under Severus' elbow and steered him out the doorway. "There's been an argument about whether to allow the Weasley twins to join the Order," he explained. "Arthur had asked my opinion."

He waited, but Dumbledore said nothing more. "And?"

"Oh, I don't think they should join just yet. The time will come soon enough..." His voice faded out as they found a quiet, unseen place to Disapparate. "Do you need help?" the Headmaster asked before releasing the Potions master's elbow.

"No!" He didn't really mean it to come out as sharply as it did, but he doubted Dumbledore was in the mood to take any offense.

Despite his answer, he actually found himself unable to Disapparate until almost half a minute after Dumbledore: his concentration was weak, and the last thing he wanted to risk was splinching. Once he got to Hogsmeade, though, he found the Headmaster waiting for him outside the Hogs Head Inn.

"Come along with me." His voice left no room for argument. He followed the man in and to a table in the far corner. It was dimly lit and not too close to the fire or the kitchen. He sat and waited.

"I feel in need of some refreshment before we return to the castle," Dumbledore explained.

"I do not. - Is there something you wanted to discuss before returning? Or is this an attempt at congeniality after having voted against me at the meeting?"

Dumbledore ordered a butterbeer and a wine and waited until the waitress had left. Then he turned to Severus and leaned in close. "I did not vote against you. I voted against having you repeatedly tortured by Vol- Riddle."

"Oh, please!" he snapped. "You do me no favors by expressing your concerns for me! In fact, you make it more difficult. I do not need to be encumbered with your emotions!"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, but said nothing: the drinks arrived and Dumbledore gestured the waitress to give him the wine.

"I said I didn't need -"

"It will help settle your stomach," he said. "Alastor's suggestion. Said he'd worked with - victims of that potion in the past."

He narrowed his eyes, but took a sip of the wine.

"I wanted to talk to you about something else. The - ingredients Alastor mentioned, the dragon eggs, the runespoor eggs: are those things you're likely to - uh, need?"

He had expected this question and lied quite smoothly, "No." Then, just to add a touch of truth, he said, "You will not find them at Hogwarts." Since he was working out of the Shrieking Shack, that part was quite true.

Dumbledore nodded but looked less than convinced. "It's not a secret that Lucius Malfoy was in the cemetery with you and Voldemort - sorry, I keep forgetting."

He hadn't thought his reaction to the name had been noticeable. At least Dumbledore didn't realize it was at least as much in response to the topic he'd switched to.

"Everyone at that meeting last week understood your - slip of the tongue."

"I do not wish to discuss-"

"Severus, Malfoy is insinuating himself with Cornelius Fudge. I would be very careful right now: he might not have any trouble turning you in to the Ministry if he wants to."

"The Dark Lord is not likely to allow that," he said impatiently. This was getting very old very fast! "How else can I explain this to you? I am returning to the Dark Lord's favor. His - initial displeasure with me is over. He cannot afford to hold too many grudges against his former servants: there aren't many left and he needs us - them - in order to rebuild his army."

Dumbledore stared at him, trying to see through the shadows of his hood. "I received an Owl yesterday. I'm to meet with the Minister tomorrow. He's decided to assign Hogwarts' new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher himself."

"What? Why would he -"

"Apparently, he thinks my choices have been inadequate or - too aggressive. In any case, he doesn't care for the practical approach I've been trying to take."

Severus sneered and made a scoffing sound. "Who was too aggressive? Quirrell? Lockhart? Lupin?" He didn't bother to mention the last D.A.D.A. instructor: after all, Dumbledore hadn't chosen Crouch, he'd chosen Moody, who'd never had a chance to teach.

"I'm not sure. But I'm not going to be able to put you into that position."

Severus felt as if he'd been hit with a Stunning spell. "You - were going to -"

"Not that I've mentioned it to anyone, but yes, that was my intention. With Vold- him most assuredly back and rebuilding his army, I felt you would be the most qualified to teach the students the types of defenses we will all be needing. - I'm sorry I can't do it."

Severus simply nodded.

"It might not have been the best idea, in any case: the curse on that position might, as I've always feared, take you away from me - from Hogwarts - too soon. And with the Ministry as it is right now, Fudge and - others - might have pounced on you the moment they caught wind of the assignment."

He nodded again. So close! So blasted close! He wished Dumbledore had never told him. He was sure that no matter how qualified the Ministry's choice might be, he would take an immediate dislike to the new instructor. He would, in fact, make a point of it!

"Which brings me back to my other concern: you must be very careful right now, Severus. Whatever - services you are providing the Dark Lord - you must keep a low profile. - Are you sure you don't have any contraband ingredients?"

"I told you: you will not find anything of that nature at Hogwarts."

"That's an evasive answer. Give me some credit."

He took a deep breath and drank a bit more wine: so far, it did seem to be settling easily in his stomach. Perhaps Moody had been right.

"I will do my best not to compromise you or the school in any way. I cannot afford to lose my position as a spy for the Dark Lord if I intend to stay alive. I will take no unnecessary risks. - Is that sufficient?"

"Not really. But I suppose that's the best I can hope for."

"It is."

They finished their drinks in silence. The Hogs Head's owner came by their table and spoke briefly to Dumbledore: he couldn't hear what they said, as Dumbledore turned away from him and the hood Severus wore had a dampening effect on the noise around him.

When they were done, they flew back to the castle and Severus went to his dungeons.

He pulled off his traveling cape, his gloves and, with a sense of exhaustion, took off his clothes and put on, instead, a very loose, black robe. He had no reason to leave his chambers for the rest of the day. His legs were throbbing, his feet felt as if he'd been walking on hot coals. His hands, not quite as swollen, but still discolored, hurt as badly as they ever had.

He pulled out the jar of the Blood-Replenishing Potion McGonagall had brought him and measured out twelve single doses into small bottles for his private stores. Nearly half the bottle was left, and he found a large goblet into which he measured four more doses that he could begin taking now.

It occurred to him that when he had regained his strength, it would be a useful exercise to try developing a version of this potion that didn't need to be ingested. Perhaps a topical administration, he thought, for situations like the one he was facing, in which half of everything he swallowed seemed to be rejected by his stomach.

He put aside the remaining potion and decided he should begin another batch tonight, so that he could return more than had been taken from Madam Pomfrey's cupboard.

But he was so tired, he decided to start it after he had a short rest. He looked over the many papers on his desk, all the end-of-year tests he still needed to grade in order to have the reports included with the other grade reports so that the students could receive their book and equipment list for his classes in time to purchase what they needed for the coming year.

Then there were the class schedules for his third and fourth year students, which seemed to need revision every year. And the lists he needed to prepare for the supplies he'd need for each of his classes.

He felt, suddenly, overwhelmed by the amount of work. He'd never felt that way before, at least not since the first year he had taught at Hogwarts. And even then, his sense of being burdened with more work than he could manage had been rapidly overcome by careful organization and a reduction of one hour in the amount of sleep he indulged in each night.

He flicked his wand to douse the lamps in the office and headed for his bedchamber.

He wanted to ignore the knock on his door. He wanted to ignore it very badly. After all, if he were already in his bedchamber, he might not even hear it.

"Severus! I need to talk with you." It was Dumbledore.

He flicked his wand at the door and it opened for the Headmaster. Dumbledore took one look at his Potions master and said, "Oh. I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I - well, before I go to the Ministry tomorrow, we need to discuss the situation with Orestes."

He nodded and came back to the chairs near his fireplace. He lit the flames for warmth and gestured Dumbledore to the seat he normally took.

"I wanted your thoughts on how to approach this."

Fortunately, he had already given this some thought: he might be rid of this interruption quite soon. "I planned to wait for an auspicious moment to feel him out."

Dumbledore struggled to hide a smile. "Well, given your return to reclusiveness, how were you planning to create such a moment without leaving your chambers?"

He succumbed to an impatient glare. "I plan to ask him to - resume the Occlumency exercises." He tried not to shiver, but the very mention of the grueling practice made his stomach begin to churn again. He was heartily tired of that!

Dumbledore's eyes sharpened, and he removed his spectacles. "I don't like that idea. He could easily do far more damage -"

"If that had been the Dark Lord's purpose in having him here, it would have been a simple matter for him to accomplish early on. All he'd have to do was claim an unavoidable misstep in his Legilimency." He shook his head. "No. If he is working for the Dark side, that was not his mission."

"And what do you think his mission is?"

He shrugged. "We do not yet know for certain that he has one. Moody might have been right: his suspicious activities in Albania could easily be signs of boredom and age."

"And the portal? How do you explain that?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I don't." He took a deep breath, trying to quell once again the rising nausea. Whatever was still bleeding inside him, he was just beginning to be concerned: not that he could think of anything to be done for it. If he bled to death from his own poison, well, that was a risk he'd knowingly taken.

"Assuming he agrees to work with you," Dumbledore said, looking at him much more closely, "how do you expect to test his loyalties?"

Given the intensity of Dumbledore's look, Severus was wondering if he were somehow physically betraying how terrible he felt. "I plan to drop hints of my dissatisfaction working here at Hogwarts. Perhaps also my unhappiness with you, contrasted with my intense desire to please the Dark Lord. If he's working with us, he should find my comments alarming and report them to you. If he's working for the Dark Lord, he'll probably use the portal to report to him and get further instructions."

"And if you were in his position? What would you do?"

"Which position? If I were loyal to the Order, I'd report my behavior to you at once." He paused and saw something in Dumbledore's eyes that he couldn't quite understand. "I'd also report to the Dark Lord. I wouldn't want to lose my position with either of you."

"And if you were loyal to Voldemort?"

He winced. "I would do the same thing." He still couldn't decipher what he saw in Dumbledore's gaze. "But it may be that Orestes has had no contact at all with the Dark Lord. That may have been a false impression by the Dark Lord to set us against Orestes. He may simply be here with no strong feelings one way or the other. In which case I would expect him to tell you his suspicions about my loyalty. And to do nothing else."

Dumbledore finally looked away and nodded. "The Pensieve?" he asked. "Would you like it?"

He would have liked it desperately. But he couldn't afford the luxury. "No. Thank you." He decided to change the subject. "About the portal. I planned to put a spell in place that would alert us - or just you, if you like, if it's used. I don't think we should let Orestes or anyone who wasn't at this last meeting know about it. And I certainly don't think we should interfere with his ability to use it."

"That's a good idea, but I can't have you involved. Volde- Tom," he said impatiently, "would know if you were acting against his 'faithful servant'. I'll have Remus and Alastor put the spell in place. They're the most qualified to work with Dark magic. After you, of course."

He felt he had just been flattered, and he didn't like it. It wasn't worth mentioning, though. "Anything else?"

Dumbledore shook his head and stood up. "Let me know before you approach Orestes about the Occlumency. I'd like to be present when you ask him."

"I had planned to drop several negative comments about you as reason for asking him to resume."

Dumbledore considered that. "I'd rather be there. I'm sure you'll find opportunities to criticize me later." He gave Severus a lopsided grin and his eyes twinkled briefly with amusement and he headed for the door. "Take a sleeping draught, Severus. I want you fully rested and recovered before you start up with Orestes."

It was perfectly sensible, and though he hated to admit to his constant weakness, he nodded agreement.

When he was once more alone, he pulled some Dreamless Sleep from his private stores and took it with him to his bedchamber. He lit a three-hour fire and sat on the edge of his bed, just staring at the flames.

Dumbledore's words from the Hogs Head Inn were still circling in his head, like vultures waiting to find enough pain to feed off of. Dumbledore would have given him, finally, the position he'd waited thirteen years to fill. And this time it was the Ministry that stood in his way. He felt so acutely disappointed that he briefly considered trying to convince the Dark Lord of how useful he would be in that position, that perhaps he could have his minions in the Ministry convince Fudge...

He recognized those thoughts as highly perverse and wishful thinking. He couldn't afford either.

It was quite a long time before the draught took effect. When he finally did sleep, he dreamed again of Potter in the cemetery. Of the Dark Lord tormenting him. And he dreamed that this time he joined the fight against the Potter boy and he disappeared and Lily lay on the ground, crying out in agony from the Cruciatus Curse.

He woke screaming and sweating.

He didn't go back to sleep.