You'll Never Be Alone

Chapter Eight

Knockturn Alley

The rest of the summer passed without incident for Harry, not counting his almost nightly nightmares, of course. He had had one last week that particularly disturbed him. It was a strangely short dream, though it kept repeating itself throughout the night.

*******

Harry walked slowly into a dank, dimly lit room. The mists that seemed to rise out of the floor blocked him from seeing anything more than a few feet away. But he heard the gentle simmering of a cauldron, and heard a low, deep voice checking off ingredients. He continued to plod forward, and, all of a sudden, he saw a man standing behind a table on which the cauldron was placed. It was a Deatheater, to be precise. He couldn't tell who, because the man was wearing a mask, but his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the Dark Mark on his left forearm. The figure apparently had not seen Harry, so he moved closer. He noticed numerous bottles filled with vile-looking ingredients that Harry hoped he would never have to see again in his life. There were many empty, corked test tubes waiting to be filled. Harry stepped closer to the cauldron and looked inside, but the dream faded before him and he found himself instead on the streets of a hamlet. At first he could not detect what was wrong. He thought he saw a sunset. But when his vision cleared he realized that it was not a peaceful sunset. The cottages lining an entire plaza were engulfed in flame. But, strangely enough, the area was completely devoid of people. If an entire village were on fire, it was rational to think that the occupants of the houses would be running and screaming. But there was a deadly silence. Nothing but the crackling of the fire. And the last thing Harry saw was a broken vial lying beneath a burning window.

*******

That dream had bothered Harry so much that he had sent it to Tiros as soon as he had woken up that morning. But that had been a week ago, and Harry hadn't gotten a reply yet. He was beginning to get very anxious that something had happened.

However, Harry couldn't ponder the problem anymore at the moment. Today was August 15, and four of the Weasley children, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and he were going to Diagon Alley for their school supplies. They would be leaving for Hogwarts the next day, on an early train that operated mostly for the staff or for cargo to and from the school.

Harry walked quickly down the stairs to meet the others in the living room. Mrs. Weasley was giving a speech to Bill and Charlie about not destroying things: they were staying behind to "hold down the fort," so to speak, since Percy had very haughtily declared that he needed to get back to work and really shouldn't be wasting any more time. Harry had then seen Fred sneak a Canary Cream into Percy's lunch sack.

As Mrs. Weasley finished her sermon and pecked her two sons on the cheek, Mr. Weasley gathered the brood around the fireplace and took the jar of Floo Powder down from the mantel. One by one, the family disappeared into the enchanted flame. Mr. Weasley had insisted that he and Harry go together after everyone else had gone through. Harry slipped his glasses into his pocket and Mr. Weasley, gripping Harry tightly by the shoulder, stepped into the fireplace. In a moment, they stumbled out of the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace and joined the others.

* * * * *

Severus Snape sank heavily onto the stool, then cursed himself for landing so hard. He reached down to the secret drawer that he had put into the lab table and drew out a tattered piece of parchment. Sighing, he began to study it.

roc's gizzard

dragon's blood

powered hydra scales

cyanide

unicorn tears

digitalis

opium

eye of basilisk

It was the most ambiguous list of potions ingredients he'd ever seen in his life. More unusual than the muggle ingredients of cyanide and opium, which were occasionally used in some advanced potions, were the unicorn tears. All the other ingredients normally caused adverse effects on people, especially when used in combination with each other. Moreover, they were usually associated with Dark Magic and therefore, Voldemort. But unicorn tears? They were so pure: they had no place in Dark Magic. Severus could not understand what they were doing in that potion. He thought for a second that he had made a mistake. But he had watched Harry's dream through the Receiver so many times, and he had eventually been able to understand what was being said. What he was saying, actually. There was no denying it: the Deatheater in Harry's dream was Severus himself, and he was brewing that potion. He guessed that Harry had not figured that out, but Severus could recognize himself when he saw it, even if he was wearing a mask.

After he first received the dream a week ago and had viewed it for the first time, he had gone straight to Dumbledore with it. There was a very good chance that this dream was showing the future. After all, Harry's dreams already had the ability to see into the present, as it had when Voldemort murdered the muggle last summer. But Albus had not been able to decipher it any better than Severus could. He simply suggested that Severus try to figure out which ingredients were on the table and try to brew the potion, before Voldemort possibly asked him to. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. But now that he had discovered the supposed ingredients, he was stumped. What could it be for? No Dark potion could possibly function with unicorn's tears in it, could it? And certainly no beneficial potion would work if it had part of a basilisk in it. So what could the potion possibly do?

Severus realized that he should probably write to Harry, to let him know everything was o.k. for the moment, at least. It had been a comparatively long time since Harry had heard from "Tiros" and he would probably be worried by now. That was definitely something the boy didn't need.

But now Severus needed to get to Knockturn Alley for the potion ingredients. He would write to Harry when he returned.

Severus went into his office and walked over to the fireplace. He took the small jar of Floo Powder off the shelf, threw a pinch of it into the fire, stated his destination, and stepped through.

* * * * *

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys stepped out of Flourish and Blotts, laden with books for the new school year. The packages were extremely heavy, since the new DADA teacher had required three new books of all the students. They were thick volumes, but fortunately not expensive.

"So who do you thing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be?" asked Harry in a conversational tone.

"Hope it's Lupin," answered Ron, matter-of-factly, "although I don't suppose he can get away to teach since Snuffles is on the run."

Harry's light mood dissipated. Ron just had to throw that in. As if he didn't already know. He supposed Ron hadn't meant anything, but still...

Harry looked up to see that Hermione had elbowed Ron sharply in the ribs. He pretended that it had made him feel better.

"Maybe Dumbledore'll have Moody back," he mused.

Fred and George snorted simultaneously. "That old crackpot?" exclaimed Fred. "That old bloke just..." Fred's voice quickly faded at the sharp look he received from his father. Arthur Weasley greatly respected Alastor Moody. "Well, I mean...er...erm...well...he's brilliant dad..."

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a minute before it was broken by Ginny.

"Do you think Professor Dumbledore will hire Professor Moody again, Daddy?" she asked, throwing her father a classic puppy-dog face.

"I don't know, baby girl. Moody is more...ahem...cautious now than ever before, not without good reason. Still...well, I guess you'll find out tomorrow. Either way, I'm sure Dumbledore will hire an auror."

"As long as the Snape doesn't get it," mumbled Ron.

"Now Ron," Mrs. Weasley said as if to a small child, "I know you don't like Professor Snape. And I know he's not the nicest of human beings. But he is a very intelligent man. He knows quite a bit about the Dark Arts."

"Of course he does," Ron mumbled again, but was cut off by a glare from his mother.

The group made it's way through the crowded street, stopping at the Apothecary's for fresh Potions supplies, then at the second hand shop so that Ginny, who had grown over the summer, could get new robes. Mrs. Weasley went inside with her daughter and Hermione, while the men waited outside. When out of sight of their mother, the twins approached their father.

"Dad," George began, "is it alright if Fred and I go off a bit by ourselves?"

" We'll stay in Diagon Alley. Promise. And," his twin added as his father began to protest, "it has nothing whatsoever to do with the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes."

"Yeah. Honest dad. It's just that we...er...made some money this summer and...erm...we want to spend it without everyone seeing."

Mr. Weasley's eyes grew very large all of a sudden. He obviously misunderstood his son. He hoped so anyway...

"Without any one seeing? What is it exactly that you are planning to buy?"

"Oh, don't worry. Nothing illegal," George continued.

"Right. Definitely not illegal," Fred added.

"And, actually, I think you'll rather approve of our purchase once you've seen it."

"I don't think I want to know," Mr. Weasley sighed as he buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, you'll see dad, it'll be fine."

"Yeah, dad. So, can we go?" Both boys looked extremely hopeful. Mr. Weasley waved his hand dismissively.

"Be careful," he resigned. "And for Merlin's sake, stay out of trouble."

"Thanks dad!" and the boys ran off, winking at Harry as they left.

"What's that all about?" Ron inquired suspiciously.

"No idea," Harry answered, avoiding his friend's eyes.

"You do too have an idea. They winked at you!"

"Did not..." Harry eyes were searching the crowd vainly for something to get Ron's attention off the subject. Suddenly, he saw it.

"Hey, Ron. Look over there! It's Snape!"

"What? Where?"

"There!" Harry pointed down the street to the Hogwarts Potions Master. "He's headed straight for Knockturn Alley! I wonder what he could be doing there?"

"Some bloody Deatheater reunion? Who knows. I'd just as soon see Snape cursed off the face of the planet anyway. Stupid git," muttered Ron under his breath. "Wish Moody would turn him into a ferret."

Harry laughed out loud at his friend's joke. One of his only happy memories from his previous year at Hogwarts was that of Malfoy being transfigured into a bouncing ferret. As bad as it sounded, he would actually love to see Snape turned into some vile animal and bounced off the castle walls.

"Hey, Harry, do you think Tiros knows Snape?"

"Possibly. They both knew my parents, so I guess they could have known each other too. Why?"

"No real reason anyway. Just thought that, maybe, he could let Snape have it one of these days. You know?"

Harry grinned. "No need to bother Tiros for that. Snuffles would love to do it."

"Wish he would..." Ron was cut off with the return of the twins carrying a bulky package. Mr. Weasley looked genuinely frightened. Fred and George only smiled sweetly at him. Fred nodded conspiratorially at Harry. Ron, seeing this, opened his mouth to say something. But he never got the chance, as Mrs. Weasley and the girls chose that moment to emerge out of the second-hand shop.

"Well, boys, what do you think about getting drinks over at the Leaky Cauldron and then heading home?"

When everyone answered in the affirmative, the group walked back down the crowded street to the pub.

* * * * *

Severus walked glumly through the desolate blocks of Knockturn Alley. He always hated it here, even when he had been a true Deatheater. He certainly felt no better about it now. He could almost feel the Dark Magic seeping out of shuttered windows and cracked doors. As often as he could, he avoided Knockturn Alley all together. However, at the moment he didn't have a choice. Many of the ingredients from the potion in Harry's dream could only be found here.

He finally stopped in front of a dilapidated old storefront in front of which a sign, carved with the words "Apothecary Malcus", hung. This was, strangely enough, the least dark of the shops in Knockturn Alley. In fact, he knew that the owner, Maximillian was no dark wizard, as the owners of the other shops were. He had simply inherited it from his father, so had no choice but to manage it. The poor man always looked so uncomfortable when Severus entered his shop: he did not know that Severus was an undercover spy. He only knew him as the ruthless Deatheater.

But if Max was uncomfortable with Severus in his shop, then it was nothing to how he looked when Severus opened the door and stepped inside today. He quickly saw the reason for the store owner's terror. In a corner, examining bottles of ready-made curse draughts, stood Lucius Malfoy and his son, Draco.

Severus walked quietly up to the counter, hoping against hope that Lucius would not notice his arrival. His efforts were in vain, of course. Lucius approached him before he had even reached the frightened Max.

"Good afternoon, Severus," he greeted haughtily.

"Lucius," Severus nodded, warily. "Good afternoon Draco," he added when he noticed the boy peering nervously at the two men. He must be well aware of the constant feuding between the top Deatheaters. Lucius was near the top because of his callous ruthlessness. Severus, on the other hand, was one of Voldemort's favorites because of his skill with potions: he was one of the best potions makers in Europe. This tended to make the others, especially Lucius, rather jealous and suspicious.

"Afternoon, Professor," Draco replied quietly.

"Draco, why don't you go look around the store and let your...Professor...and I talk."

Draco went without another word.

"Severus! Long time no see! We've been missing you at the gatherings, you know. Some of us are starting to think that you're not as loyal as you pretend to be."

"I am more useful to Voldemort than you could ever dream to be, Lucius."

"Useful, yes. No one can argue that," Lucius replied with a definite edge to his voice. "We don't question your talent, Snape, only your loyalties. Don't think we can't see how friendly you are lately with the old fool Dumbledore."

"I have no obligation to Dumbledore whatsoever, Malfoy," he spat, "and I receive nothing from him other than my paycheck."

Lucius turned away from him then and began to walk towards the other end of the store, pretending to examine the products he passed along the way. Severus took the opportunity to watch Draco. He was relieved to see that the boy was not looking at the darkest of the ingredients, or the most lethal. He was simply looking at the...ahem...grossest-looking ones, like any normal 15-year-old boy might do, with a certain innocent amusement. Maybe there was a chance yet to save him from Voldemort...

"You know Severus," Lucius began again, turning quickly to face him. "It would indeed be a shame if we were to find out that your loyalties truly lie elsewhere," he tutted. "Such a waste of talent. Come Draco. We're going...NOW"

Severus waited until they had left before going up to the slightly trembling Max.

"I need two standard quantities each of these ingredients," he stated, showing the man his list. Still trembling the man filled most of his order. Severus had already gotten the unicorn tears from the apothecary in Diagon Alley, and so had put a light line through it on the list. He was well aware that you could not buy unicorn tears in Knockturn Alley, and didn't want to make Max more nervous. With a definite shake in his voice Max informed him that they did not have any more cyanide, and would not be getting any more until next week, unless Severus wanted to special-order it.

"Forget it, Malcus. It'll be easier to go to a muggle supplier in London," he replied in what he hoped was a conversational way.

Max mumbled something that sounded like, "Very well then, sir," and handed Severus his package.

Severus opened the door slowly and made a quick scan of the street to make sure the Malfoys were gone. They were not in sight, so he started on his way back to the Leaky Cauldron to catch the Floo Network back to Hogwarts.

Chapter Nine

Godricstown

Mrs. Weasley woke her family and their guests well before sunrise the following morning. The early train to Hogwarts left from Platform 9 3/4 at 8:00, and the children still had to finish packing. Harry opened his closet and pulled out the clothes that Mrs. Weasley had shrunken for him. He sat down by his open trunk and, after folding the garments as well as he could, laid them inside. He nestled his schoolbooks, ink, quills and parchment on top of them, followed by his Firebolt.

Harry sighed as he turned around to get the last thing he needed to pack. The Dormito Pensieve felt unusually heavy in his hands. But Harry knew that it hadn't actually gotten heavier. Instead, he realized that it had been a week since he sent his last dream to Tiros and he still hadn't heard anything. Normally, Tiros would get back to him within a few days at the most, even if it was only to confirm that he had received Harry's last correspondence. But Harry was beginning to get very worried. He was sure something had happened. What if Tiros had been on a mission with the Order of the Phoenix and had been taken prisoner? What if he had been killed? It was frighteningly possible. But then another thought struck him: what if someone else had seen Harry's dream, and it had gotten Tiros in trouble? Harry was almost sure that the dream had foretold something about Voldemort's moves. Perhaps it had been too dangerous to send to Tiros. He hadn't even thought about it that way until now. He had just been too eager for closure. The nightmare had scared him so much. But what if Voldemort had somehow found out? He would surely kill Tiros...and then probably come after the Weasleys. And it would be all Harry's fault!

He shook his head hard. He shouldn't think that way. Not yet. He didn't know with any certainty that anything had happened to Tiros at all. Maybe he was just busy...

In any case, he could ask Dumbledore when they got to Hogwarts.

* * * * *

Ten hectic minutes later, six Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were crammed comfortably into Arthur Weasley's new (illegally) enchanted car. The ride to London was fairly smooth, as the car seemed to zip past the rush hour traffic. Ginny spent nearly the entire time twittering on about Quidditch. She, of course, was trying to impress Harry. But Harry, being the "average" teenaged boy, didn't realize this. Hermione seemed to, though, as she kept elbowing the other girl and shaking her head in an ashamed sort of way. Shameless flirting, indeed.

* * * * *

King's Cross Station was filled to the brim with men in pressed suits trying to get to work, and young mothers trying to get their squirming children to behave themselves. It was enough work trying to get their huge trunks through the crowd, without the added hassle of trying to quiet Hedwig's screeching, Pig's twittering, and Crookshanks's hissing. But eventually, despite the rude stares and snide remarks they received from the muggles they had jolted about, the group finally arrived at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.

"Well, Harry," Mr. Weasley yelled over the din, "I think you and I ought to go through together first, eh?"

"Sure Mr. Weasley," Harry said as he fought his way over. As soon as he reached Mr. Weasley's side, the man put a hand on his shoulder and they proceeded to walk, then run at the barrier.

They would have made it through too, had Mr. Weasley not bumped into someone coming the other way.

* * * * *

Minerva McGonagall felt her head crash into a solid, moving object as she stepped through the barrier into the muggle section of King's Cross Station. As her vision cleared, she saw an equally solid, red-headed head being rubbed by its owner, and saying some rude things besides. The head quickly ceased being rubbed, however, when a younger, darker head beside it yelled out something along the lines of...

"Professor?!"

Minerva started and looked down.

"Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed, somewhat relieved and annoyed at the same time. "As I see you have arrived in one piece, I suggest you and your friends board the train before we delay its departure any further."

Now, obviously, Minerva expected this to have an immediate effect on the children, as she was surprised when they didn't all instantly scramble for the barrier. Instead, they stood their ground firmly, apparently copying Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were watching the Transfigurations teacher as if she were prey.

"Well? What is it? I believe I am speaking English," she cried in exasperation. She looked around wildly at all the faces: Harry's confused ogle, Mrs. Weasley's hawk-like glare...

"Who sent you?" Mrs. Weasley spat.

"Dumbledore...of course. Who else, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Dumbledore never said anyone would meet us here."

"Of course not. At the time, he didn't expect you would need an escort," Minerva said, as calmly as she could manage. But when nothing clicked in the gaping faces before her, she stopped attempting to conceal her impatience.

"Honestly! I would think that what happened this morning is cause enough for you to be more worried about this boy's safety," she lectured, gesturing at Harry. "Y...your own children are in danger! Mr. Weasley, you must know how perilous this situation is! I would not think you one to take such a serious situation so lightly..."

"Wait, Professor..." Harry interrupted without thinking. "Oh, sorry, but...well, what do you mean 'this morning'. What happened? What's so dangerous?"

This was too much for the poor Hogwarts Professor. Surely they knew! They were wizards, after all, and they received the Daily Prophet. How could they not know?

"Wh...What...I...eh...er...it...it was in the paper! Surely you saw the paper..." Minerva was now suspicious of the people in front of her for the same reason that they were suspicious of her. Could they possibly be dark wizards impersonating the Weasley family? If so, she may well have just let the proverbial cat out of the bag. But at least she didn't have long to wonder...

"Actually, Professor," Harry said as timidly as possible while still being able to be heard over the din. "We left the Burrow so quickly this morning that none of us even looked at the paper." The others nodded in agreement.

Minerva eyed them suspiciously for a minute more before resigning herself to what ever fate she had coming.

"Very well then, Mr. Potter. We cannot talk here, so I suggest we cross the barrier and board the train before it departs without us. We will be the only passengers aboard, besides the Aurors set to guard us, so we may speak relatively freely. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, given the turn of events, you may wish to accompany your children to their final destination?"

"Of course, we intend to, yes," Mrs. Weasley chirped matter-of-factly.

"Alright then," Mr. Weasley gulped. "Come Harry..."

Mr. Weasley held Harry's arm in a vice and stepped with him through the barrier.

* * * * *

McGonagall had not been lying about the Aurors: platform 9 3/4 was swarming with them. Harry began to worry seriously again for Tiros's safety. What could have happened that was bad enough for all this security to be used to protect him? Harry knew that, if something had happened to put himself in danger, Tiros would be in more peril than he would. He just hoped that that blasted dream hadn't gotten Tiros in trouble. It just kept getting more and more probable...

Harry became aware that he was being steered toward the train by his friend's family. McGonagall was leading them toward the engine rather than the passenger car, which Harry found strange since the engine appeared to have but one door on it, leading to the tiny compartment for the conductor. His teacher looked over her shoulder several times and, apparently seeing nothing incriminating, turned back to the train and muttered a spell. A door seemed to melt straight out of the metal. Satisfied, McGonagall lifted the knob and swung the door open to reveal a fairly large and relatively comfortable passenger compartment, into which she gestured the group.

Harry walked in first, followed by Hermione and the Weasley children, and lastly, the adults. The all sat down on the oddly fluffy couches lining the compartment walls, as a tray floated contentedly between the passengers, offering them drinks and snacks. Harry chose a butterbeer and a pumpkin pasty, and then turned his attention to his teacher. At present she was waving her wand around and muttering in Latin. Finally, she seemed satisfied as a light green mist rose from the other occupants and dissipated into the surrounding air.

Then, after she was sure that she had everyone's attention, Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat and began:

"Now, I know that you are all well aware of the events that happened at Hogwarts last term and have long since realized what it means."

Impatient nods all around.

"Very well. Then you also realize that You-Know-Who has been rather quiet this summer, much to the surprise of Dumbledore and myself. There haven't been any more attacks at all, and only hints of large gatherings of Deatheaters."

"Come to think if it, yes," Mrs. Weasley interjected, "I have noticed that it's been quiet. It's rather unusual..."

"Of course it is. In fact Dumbledore was beginning to wonder if You-Know-Who had finally lost his nerve. No such luck apparently." Here McGonagall hesitated, biting her lip before she went on.

"Early this morning...a group of Deatheaters..." Here she bit her lip again and shook her head.

"Yes, Professor?"

"They attacked Willingston."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gasped in horror, and even the other children looked shocked. It seemed to Harry that only he was confused about this particular facet of the Wizarding world. Of course any attack was a bad thing, but what was so important about Willingston?

He coughed and, blushing, asked softly, "Professor? Sorry, but what's so important...I mean...I know any Deatheater activity is bad but..." Harry couldn't seem to find a way to word his question. Every way he could think of sounded so cold in his head. But eventually he settled on, "What's in Willingston?"

The others turned to him slowly, at first looking flabbergasted. But one by one, their expressions softened. McGonagall sighed and looked at him with pity etched into her features.

"Willingston is a small hamlet inhabited by both wizards and muggles alike. It was established several centuries ago to act as a shield of sorts for another town."

"Which town? What kind of shield?"

"Godricstown...In the 18th century, a dark wizard called Lord Dextrelburg rose to power and very nearly took over Europe. He brutally ended the bloodlines many of the wizarding families of the time simply because they opposed him. Use of the Forbidden Curses became so wide-spread that it was decided that anyone found using one would be given the Kiss without trial. Oddly enough, Dextrelburg was particularly fond of tormenting and killing the heirs of Godric Gryffindor, so they devised a plan to protect the family. Most of the clan resided in Godricstown, so Willingston was established to became a "Secret-Keeper" of sorts for it. Dextrelburg, of course, knew very well where Godricstown should have been, but with the spell in place, he could not find it, even though he stood right in the middle of it countless times."

Here she cleared her throat again before swallowing hard. Harry was impatient for her to continue. He was vaguely curious as to why Professor Binns had never mentioned any of this in History of Magic. But perhaps he did and Harry had just not been listening. For fear of this, he decided against asking about it. Instead, he was surprised to hear Hermione do it for him.

"But Professor, I've read a lot about the subject of Dextrelburg's reign and the spell put on Willingston and Godricstown, and I know the subject's been forbidden to teach in school. The only thing I don't understand is, why? I mean, the light side won, so, what's so horrible that they can't let anyone know about it?"

McGonagall let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Miss Granger, the true events of what happened at Godricstown exist to most only in legend. Few people believe them in favor of the watered-down version we are supposed to accept. Ministries all over the world decided that the event should be ignored by wizarding schools for fear that the students would find out the truth. Censorship at its...ahem...best, Miss Granger."

"Professor," Harry interjected. "What really did happen, then?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "The spell went horribly wrong. It had...side effects...that no one predicted. Harry..."

He looked up sharply at his stern teacher's use of his Christian name.

"Harry, I'm not the right person to tell you what really happened. I don't suppose I understand it well enough myself, but...you should leave it up to the Headmaster. He has that and much more to tell you besides."

It seemed then that the conversation had come to a complete halt, and an uneasy silence descended upon the compartment.