Research and Development

Part Nine: Death Eaters at Play

As they drove through the sleepy countryside, watching the golden fields and mossy green hills go past, Remus questioned Snape about everything that had recently happened with Voldemort, as Harry sprawled in the back of the Mini, dozing. "Have you no idea as to the identity of the Death Eater ordered to shadow us?" he asked the Potions Master, who snorted humorlessly.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. So much for your vaunted olfactory acuity. The Dark Lord has been keeping the identity of your attacker close. He is not the most trusting of men."

"Gee, I wonder why," Remus replied dryly, thinking that if Snape and Lucius Malfoy were supposedly his supporters, he'd be a bit paranoid, too. Slytherins.

"And you managed nothing of worth since I gave you the object?"

"I...have a few ideas," Remus told him defensively. "Haven't you come up with anything at all?" he quickly said, returning the ball to Severus's court.

The Potions Master leaned his head back on his seat for a moment, shutting his eyes. "I don't believe it was Goyle," he said in a contemplative voice, "because we saw the Death Eater that attacked Grimmauld Place, and he wasn't shaped like an overweight zeppelin in a black robe. I only saw him for a split second before having to rescue Potter from his own idiocy once again, though; have you no useful impressions of the attacker?"

Remus frowned, thinking. "Not many. The scent on the silk is familiar, so it's unlikely to be someone I haven't seen in many years. That would rule out Crabbe and Goyle on principle, anyhow. That also makes me doubt it was Nott, because I was rarely around him in school and certainly haven't seen much of him since then...but blast it! The same could be said for nearly all of them!"

"I don't think it was Bellatrix, either," a not-at-all-sleepy-sounding voice piped up from the backseat.

Snape gave Remus a reproachful look, which Remus ignored. He cleared his throat and said, "Why is that, Harry?"

Harry thought this over a while. "Too quiet," he finally pronounced. "Too still. I only saw her that one time, but she was always talking and laughing. I don't think she's all there, you know? And this one seemed...a little taller. More the right height for a male than a female."

"This is true," Remus replied speculatively. "And the scents on the cloth were masculine scents. At the same time, what better way to throw us off their trail than to do something like that? But...I barely knew Bellatrix, and my instincts tell me that this is definitely someone I know."

Snape gave a grunt. "It's true that the woman has an unfortunate tendency to...vocalize what she's about."

"And we were in a gay bar when we were followed back to the hotel!" Harry added triumphantly. "We would've noticed any women hanging about then, wouldn't we?"

Remus's stomach gave a frightened lurch. "You were what?" Snape asked slowly, turning to face the boy. "When was this, exactly?" he added, glancing shrewdly at Lupin.

"Ngnh," Remus rejoined. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "We--Mundungus--chose--meeting place," he croaked, looking at the road and only the road. "Didn't. Choose."

"That idiot," the Potions Master griped. "While I admit that there is some merit to having someone in the Order with connections to the seething contamination that is the underworld, surely they could have found someone who was not, in fact, a seething contamination himself?"

Remus muttered something incoherent, glancing in the rearview mirror--not actually checking for anything, but trying to look busy--all the while feeling relieved all the way to his toes. They had to be more careful. It was becoming apparent that, one way or another, they were going to get caught. What the hell would happen, then? Would they take Harry away from him? They couldn't kill Remus; that would turn Harry, as his mate, mad with grief.

Mired deep in the twisting river of his thoughts, Remus almost did not register the first time the car rocked. It wasn't until Snape screamed, "Accelerate!" and drew his wand did the werewolf realize they were under attack. He slammed his foot down on the pedal, but even as the car began to jolt forward, another blast hit their rear end, and they were sent spinning out of control.

He heard Harry shout, and punched the brakes, fighting the wheel. A wave of red light washed over them, and Severus bellowed a countercurse, brandishing his wand out the window. With a sickening screech of metal, the Mini's frame began to bend. The countercurse flashed and flickered as it met the red light and successfully pushed it back.

The car trembled to a halt, now on its side, and came to rest in a ditch. Snape undid his belt and was out the window in a moment, shooting off hexes and curses left and right. Remus grappled with his seatbelt for a moment, finally giving up and using his werewolf strength to rip it off. He scrambled to turn around.

"Harry!" he cried, twisting. "Oh Merlin, please say you're all right." Harry, who had not been restrained, was slumped against the window, blood trickling from underneath his hairline. Remus gently cupped the boy's face and parted his hair, finding a jagged gash on the side of his head. "Harry, can you hear me?" He yanked out a handkerchief and pressed it to the youth's injury. Harry moaned, his eyes fluttering open. "There, oh God, so glad you're...anyway. Just a cut on the head." Remus babbled, glancing out the window. Snape was holding his position, keeping the Death Eater--or Eaters--well back. "Just a cut on the head. They always look worse than they are. I remember once when Sirius fell off his broom--Jesus, what am I saying? Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry blinked and nodded painfully. "Yeah. 'M all right. Just a bit shook up," he told the man. He reached under Remus's hand to grab the handkerchief on his own. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." A roar of rage interrupted them, and Remus looked up to see Snape tumbling onto the ground.

"Harry, I have to help him. Stay here; do you hear me? Stay here." The werewolf struggled through the broken window and stumbled over to the fallen Potions Master, light and noise and flashes of fire ricocheting over his head. Dropping to his hands and knees to present less of a target, Remus scuttled along as quickly as he could, snatching the man's wand off the ground.

He aimed it at Snape's leg, which was bent oddly, and gushing blood, but the Potions Master snarled at him. "Don't even think about it! Beastly werewolf, give me my wand!" He grabbed it away from Remus and cast a minor healing charm himself. A sound like thunder ripped past, and a heavy weight fell across Snape's body.

He looked down to see Remus collapsed on top of him, unmoving. "Bloody hell!" he swore, shoving the man to the side. At a popping noise, he looked up to see the arrival of another Death Eater, and then another. Casting about frantically for a place to hide, he saw a patch of tall weeds behind the car, and Apparated there, where he crumpled to the ground, his still injured leg unable to support his weight. "Blast and damn," he growled, panting as he gazed out from behind the weeds. The Death Eaters seemed to be congregating around Lupin's still body. One of them gave it a vicious kick, and the sound of laughter floated down the road to reach his ears.

"What can I do to help?" a hoarse whisper asked from his elbow, and Snape fought not to jump out of his skin.

"Potter!" he grimaced. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came with you, remember?" the dry retort came back instantly. "Snape," he said. "They're going to kill him. What are we going to do?" Harry looked out at his lover, who was being hexed and hit and beaten to a pulp.

"I..." Snape said slowly, considering. "They haven't seen me. They don't know. But." He took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths. "I cannot walk without aid, and it would seem suspicious to arrive with injury--sans explanation of having received it."

Harry's eyes were round as he watched Voldemort's followers at play. "Unless you were with me."

"What?"

"Unless you'd captured me, Snape--and I'd put up a fight. They'd let us get right up close, then." The man was staring at him. "Give me your wand. Hurry up. Otherwise you'll be unmasked. Speaking of which--don't you need a mask like theirs?"

Snape's eyes darted towards the group gathered around Lupin. "I can conjure one easily enough." Against his better judgment, he waived his wand, and was immediately bedecked in a blank white mask. "What is your plan, Mister Potter?"

"You just keep one hand on my shoulder, like you're pushing me forward. I'll try to make a lot of noise--plead and cry so they'll look away from Lupin. Then I'll--for Merlin's sake, why are we talking about this? Get up, Snape, we have to get going before he's dead."

Either the Potions Master had taken a hex to the head as well as his leg, or hell had momentarily frozen over, because the man rose without argument, and they tottered forward. Harry began hollering and giving great, fake sobs, and the group instantaneously lost interest in the werewolf, drawn to more valuable prey.

"Let go of me!" Harry shouted, dragging Snape along so that the man could barely keep up to stand. "You'll never get away with this--they'll catch you! All of you!" The Death Eaters began making excited, chattering noises, and Harry caught a few snatches of phrases like, "Inform the Lord," and "My Lord will be so pleased, we must..." but he waited patiently for them to draw near.

"I've got him," he heard the Potions Master bawl out, his hand tight on Harry's shoulder. "I'm the one that captured him, and the credit shall be mine!" The ferocity of his voice made the others recoil for a moment before surging forward once more.

Harry waited until they were almost there, until they were reaching out to grab him, until the reek of the breath of the man in the lead of the pack struck his face, before jerking Snape's wand up and crying, "Expecto Patronum!" The great silver stag, looking more vigorous and more corporeal than Harry had ever seen, leapt from the tip of the wand and charged the Death Eaters. With a hue and a cry, they scattered, falling over themselves to retreat to a place of safety.

Harry yanked his professor over to Remus, falling to his knees and pulling the man down beside him. "Can you Apparate him to the Burrow?" he asked the man. "Protego!" he added, casting the shield over his shoulder as their enemy began to advance once more.

"Yes, but you can't!" Snape yelled back, his voice nearly drowned out by whatever curse had been flung at them. "You're not of age, you don't have a license, and you don't know how!"

"I don't care, I don't care, and yes, I do!" Harry retorted. "Look, we're right near the Weasleys' now. I can make it that far; I swear it! We don't have a choice," he continued, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "You're going to have to trust me. You can't fight them in the shape you're in. Go on, take him and go!"

Snape snarled and lunged for his wand, but Harry scooted back out of reach. "You're wasting time," he told the man. "Apparating is the best you'll be able to do. Look, if nothing else, at least you'll be able to get help," he rationalized, giving the man a short, bitter smile. Remus lay beside them, unmoving.

With his face twisted in anger, the Potions Master grabbed hold of the werewolf. "Potter..." he said warningly. "If you don't make it back...if you let them capture you...I'll kill you myself, Dumbledore or no Dumbledore. Do you understand me?" A streak of ice went past his ear, and he flinched a little.

Harry nodded to say he understood, and gestured impatiently. With a growl and a frustrated shake of his head, Snape Disapparated. Harry stared at the spot the man had been for a long moment, hearing the spells whiz around him. He quickly cast another shield charm, just to give himself enough time to pull it together. All right, Potter, he told himself. You keep saying you're all grown up now; ready to be part of the action. Well then, go ahead and prove it. Drawing a deep breath of air, Harry shut his eyes and followed his professor.

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The next thing Harry knew, he was crouched on the Weasleys' front porch, hearing a commotion from inside the house. I did it, he marveled. I wasn't sure I could, but I did--I managed it! He managed to gain his feet and stumble to the front door, where he called loudly before entering.

Ron was at his side in a moment, punching his arm affectionately. "Wow, Harry, Snape said you were all the way down on Penny Lane! You Apparated that far? Here, come on, they're gonna take Remus to Hogwarts." Grabbing hold of Harry's arm, he pulled the youth into the kitchen, where the werewolf was laid out on the table like the main course.

All the Weasleys were gathered around him, fussing and rushing and making ready to Floo him away. Snape was present as well, scowl firmly in place, though when he saw Harry he exclaimed in relief, "Potter! Thank God!" And he swept forward, looking like he was about to hug the boy, and Harry took a terrified step back. The man plucked his wand from Harry's nerveless fingers and held it up for inspection, eyes filled with relief. Harry didn't know whether to be indignant or relieved that the man seemed to dismiss him completely as soon as he had his wand.

Arthur laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, saying seriously, "Bill and Charlie are going to Floo him through, and then I'll go after them. I want you and Ron to follow, understand? Keep well out of the way, though; he's in a fragile state, and we don't need any jolts or accidents."

Harry nodded vigorously, and stood well back next to Ron as they carefully maneuvered the man to the fireplace. "Hogwarts!" Molly called, tossing a handful of powder in, and the men stepped into the flame. Arthur followed quickly, and Molly nodded to Harry and Ron. "All right, dear--be careful, that's it," she fretted over them as they went and Harry tried to give her one last, reassuring smile.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley conjured a stretcher, and Remus was floated on it off to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore met them there, where he and Madam Pomfrey had a close look at the werewolf, asking everyone else to wait outside. Harry hated not knowing what was going on, and paced the hall while Ron followed, pestering him with questions.

"What happened? How did they find you? What did they get Lupin with? Are you hurt? You've got blood on your face. Is it yours, or Lupin's, or Snape's?" he asked, pointing at the gore.

Harry blinked a bit. Things were kind of muddled in his head, particularly where the attack was concerned. They'd been driving and talking...and Snape had yelled something...and he remembered the car being on its side, and looking out to see Remus being attacked, and a flash of black nearby; Snape...and he'd crawled out to get to the man, to try to help...

"I...I think I kind of hit my head," Harry said. "I'm okay, though. It's Remus I'm worried about. I don't know what they hit him with. I saw some of them kick him, though. Listen, Ron," Harry made sure they were far enough down the hall from the others before leaning forward and continuing in a low voice, "you don't know how we could find out what's going on, do you? In the hospital wing?"

Ron, glad that Harry seemed so much more himself, and was taking an interest in finding things out again, grinned broadly. "You mean like the Extendable Ears I happen to have on my person at this very moment? Sure, Harry. Well go around to...let's see; it's Madam Pomfrey's quarters next door, and I'm sure there's a way to get between the two without her having to walk all the way down the hall. Oy, Dad!" He jerked his chin at his father. "Harry's really got to use the loo, so we'll be back in a bit, all right?" His father nodded distractedly, and went back to arguing with Charlie about something, and Ron and Harry darted down the hall.

They snuck into the mediwitch's rooms with a minimum of difficulty, and made their way slowly to the westernmost end of the chambers. "Cor, you think she wears these?" Ron hissed, plucking at a pair of pantyhose that was trailing, foot first, out of a drawer, and both Harry and Ron paused to shudder.

"Well, this seems like the right door," Harry whispered, after they had crossed a couple of rooms and come to an entrance. "There surely can't be anything beyond this, unless it's the hospital wing, right?" Ron pulled the ears from his pocket, and they slipped them under the door. Harry stuck one end in his ear and listened closely.

Immediately, he heard Professor Dumbledore speaking. "It is too much of a risk, I'm afraid. The countercurse to Stupefy or Petrificus Totalus would almost certainly react badly to the potion he'd need for the internal injuries suffered from the Slicing Spell."

"We need to give him that potion, Albus. The rest he'll live without, but I don't fancy his chances without the potion," Poppy replied, sounding angry. "How did you say this happened?"

"There isn't time for that now," the Headmaster replied. "I am not arguing with you regarding the potion--I agree; giving him the potion is for the best. Since Remus is a werewolf, I expect there is every chance he'd recover without it, but it's nearly certain to speed his recovery time. The rest will just have to wait. If we can keep him under, in stasis, for as long as it takes for his more serious injuries to heal--"

"We cannot keep him in stasis and expect the potion to work. He will not heal that way, Albus! The best we can do is give him the potion and let him rest. After a couple of days at most, his body should be mended enough to risk doing the countercurses." Madam Pomfrey's voice was upset, but professional, and Harry bit his lip. He didn't like the way they were arguing over Remus's injuries--the idea that there was any dispute over the way to handle things gripped him with fear.

"Very well, Poppy," Albus sighed. "We'll have to keep a close eye on him, at any rate. His external injuries are, I understand, easily taken care of?"

"Yes, quite," the mediwitch responded, and her demeanor had become brusque and clinical once more. "Now, about Severus and the boy--"

"Severus has already retired to his chambers, intending to rectify his own injuries--yes, I did advise him against that, but you know what he is like, and--"

"Foolish, stubborn man," Madam Pomfrey huffed. "I'll see him this evening, make no mistake about it. Why that man turns aside every friendly hand is beyond me, but I'm not giving up! One way or another, he's got to learn it's better to turn to me in the beginning, than after the problem's been exacerbated." The Headmaster knew better than to argue with this line of pontificating, and wisely stayed silent. "Well, then, what about the boy? I'm given to understand there was blood on his face? Let's get him in here--that child is a magnet for trouble, and has almost as little common sense as Severus!"

Harry was so shocked by this comparison that he almost failed to recognize Ron tugging at his sleeve, until his friend muttered urgently, "Harry, come on! They're looking for you! We'd better go--we don't want them to find us in here."

Shaking his head, Harry allowed Ron to lead the way from the room. Madam Pomfrey tracked them down quickly, and dragged Harry back into the hospital wing to tut-tut over the cut on his head before healing it with a quick waive of her wand. "You'd better ask Sev--that is, Professor Snape for a blood-replenishing potion, before you go to bed tonight," she advised. "I've no bottles on hand, since classes are out, and head cuts always are the worst bleeders. Oh, and while you're there, mind you check if he's still limping, and report back to me. That mulish, pig-headed man!" she grumbled, going back to check on Remus, and Ron flashed a grin at Harry.

Harry wanted to ask if he could stay and visit his werewolf, but Ron wanted to leave, and Madam Pomfrey had said to report back to her, so he could come back later. So long as he visited Snape, first, which was an unpleasant thought.

Ron apparently thought so too, because he tried halfheartedly to talk Harry out of going, though he eventually relented. He even offered to go along with Harry to the dungeons, saying that Harry looked pale and seemed out of sorts. Harry couldn't bring himself to tell Ron that the reason he was out of sorts was that he was worried about Remus, and had nothing to do with the bump on his head.

So, after a quiet meal with Dumbledore and the Weasleys in the Great Hall, Harry and Ron made their way down to Snape's lair, as Ron put it. They'd had to ask Professor Dumbledore the way, and then Ron hummed a funeral march all the way down the stairs. "Stop doing that," Harry pleaded, almost wishing he were alone. Sometimes Snape could be almost decent, if Harry was working hard and thinking a lot before he spoke, but Harry didn't expect Ron to understand that, and he doubted Snape would be inclined to be anything but nasty if Harry showed up with a friend in tow. He wasn't sure why, he just had a feeling Snape was more easily dealt with when one was alone.

He was right.

"Are you lost, Mister Potter, or have you the gall to accost me in my own sequestration for some actual purpose?" he sneered, glaring down at Harry with chilling black eyes.

Harry took a moment to work out what the man said, ignoring Ron's fidgeting beside him. "Er," he finally said, flinching when Snape's eyes narrowed further. "Madam Pomfrey sent me. Um. Because she said I need some blood-replenishing potion, and she's out." He shifted from foot to foot as the man stared at him for a long moment before swinging the door open.

Sighing, the man's shoulders fell a little and he seemed to convert from malicious to merely aggravated. "Potter, I am sorry to say--well, perhaps not terribly sorry--to say that I have none on hand. I'd expect a person of your year to be able to make one yourself." He raised his eyebrows, and Harry frowned.

"I could, I guess; but I haven't any ingredients. What do you suggest I use?" Harry tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, but he could tell from the subtle twisting of Snape's face that he wasn't entirely successful.

"You could, you guess? Well, why don't we find out? I am a Potions Master, and as it so happens, the components are available to me. Go through that door--there--and you will find a workroom. I will oversee you, and we shall see if you could make this potion, that you guess is within your grasp. What say you?" His lips turned up slightly at one corner, and Harry gritted his teeth.

"Fine," he growled, and hurried through the door, Ron making distressed noises in his ear. "I bet if you told Pomfrey, she'd tell him to make it for you," he told Harry when Snape left to get another jar of toad's eyes. "I mean; you're all wan and shaky! He shouldn't be making you do this. Snape should do it himself. I know she'd make him. Tell Pomfrey," he urged.

"I bet she wouldn't," Harry contradicted, carefully measuring one spoonful of dried, crushed anise seeds. "Because Snape had to make his own potion for a broken leg, and he still doesn't look too good, does he?"

"Does he ever?" Ron mumbled mutinously.

"So, if she knew about this, she'd just make us both spend a few days in the hospital wing, and she'd probably have you helping her make the potion. Now, I wouldn't mind visiting Remus up there, but I don't want to be stuck there, and especially not with her nagging me like she does. So just shut up and help me remember if it's oil of antimony we need, or is it essence of antimony?"

"Essence of antimony and oil of antimony are the same ruddy thing, Potter," Snape informed him tiredly from the doorway. "Do you never listen in class?"

"Er, sometimes," Harry replied quietly. "When you're actually teaching something and not just insulting me, anyway."

"That's not very often," Ron pointed out with muted glee, and the teacher shot a hateful look at him.

Slipping onto a stool and setting the toad's eyes next to the rest of the materials, Snape sighed deeply. "How much of the crushed anise shall you use, Potter?"

Nervous, Harry glanced back at him. "Ah, typically we'd used a spoonful, but I don't know that we need that much, considering it's only going to be for one person--"

"Carry on with the spoonful," Snape interrupted. "You might as well make a whole batch, if you can manage it. It stores well, at any rate. Tell me, Mister Weasley, why is the anise included in this particular potion?"

Ron blinked. "Um. I dunno. It can stop cramps and flatulence, I remember that much." He shrugged when the professor rolled his eyes. "Sorry."

"Potter? Have you any guess, or has the slight concussion robbed you of what little brain power you had left?"

"'S to reduce the nausea induced from the South American pepper," he said resentfully. "And the pepper's a coagulant, which you might need if you're taking the potion because you're bleeding a lot. So there," he added spitefully, stirring the cauldron.

"Counterclockwise, you utter fool," was all Snape replied, but he didn't sound as smug as he might have.

After the potion was finished, Snape ladled out a portion for Harry, and watched the boy as he swallowed it. "No sudden dizziness? No abrupt flaming in the joints? Well, pity. It seems you managed to concoct it correctly, then. Here, take the rest up to Madam Pomfrey," he told them and, showing them to the door, added, "And tell that shrew that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, and she's to stay well away from me! Is that clear? Good," he huffed, and slammed the door on them.

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Ron handed the bottle to the woman as soon as they arrived, and took delight in announcing, "He says he's good, but he's still limping pretty badly. And he seemed kind of shaky, too! What d'you reckon, Harry--was he shaky?"

Harry, eyeing Remus's prone form through the doorway, nodded abstractedly. "Yeah, he was shaking and pale. If you want to go check on him, I could stay with Professor Lupin," he offered, looking up at her.

"Well, I suppose that would be fine," she said, going to grab a couple of things from a cupboard before heading to the dungeon to do battle with the grouch of Slytherin. "You just make sure he isn't feverish, and let him suck that wet sponge that's in the bowl on the bedside table, if his mouth seems to be moving. If anything other than that happens, just call for a house elf. They'll come get me. Care to assist, Mister Weasley?"

Ron looked up, surprised and apprehensive. "What? Er--I don't think--" But she was already shoving some linens into his arms, and he gave Harry a beseeching look. Snape would find out they'd told her he wasn't well! But Harry was too busy looking in at Lupin, and Ron was dragged unhappily away.

Harry tugged a chair over to Remus's bedside, and slipped his own smallish hand under the man's larger, square one. Stroking it gently, he gazed down at the werewolf. "Gosh, I'm really sorry this happened, Remus," he whispered, uncertain that there was no one to hear him. "This was all my fault--again. If I hadn't eaten that stupid candy--" But really, how could he have known?

The thought stopped his mouth. How could he have known? Harry felt a little weight lift from his chest, and knew Remus would be pleased--the man was always very introspective, and Harry remembered how his eyes gleamed every time Harry managed to take his thoughts to a new level. Remus wouldn't want him to blame himself. He didn't have to blame himself, not this time. He regretted the fact that they'd fought recently, but they'd made up, after all, and like Remus had once told him; fighting with someone didn't mean you stopped caring about them. It hadn't been Harry's fault. It had just happened. Voldemort was behind it, as always, and when they finally had the opportunity, they'd make him pay. For now, it was just important that Remus rest and get well.

Harry smiled a little and pressed a quick kiss to the back of the man's hand. "I'm here, Remus," he whispered. "I'm right by your side, and I'll take care of you. Just like you've taken care of me. Just like it should be, Remus." Still smiling faintly, he gently brushed a lock of hair away from the man's face. As soon as Madam Pomfrey returned from her adventure, Harry was determined to tell her about his decision. Like it or not, Poppy Pomfrey was getting a new assistant.