Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

Severus rifled through the standard supply of potions stored in the hospital wing of Durmstrang, coming out with only a handful that were usable. Most of the carts and drawers had been knocked over in the struggle with the with the Dementors, and there was not much left but a few weak restorative potions and some bone-growing serum. Neither were what Hera needed, and this frustrated the Potions Master so that a deep scowl had covered his face, making him look almost in pain.

He thrust the restorative potions at Harry and Ron without so much as a word and set the bone-growing serum down on a side table next to the bed Hera was laying on. "I suggest all three of you get some rest, there is nothing more that can be done at the moment," Snape mumbled, sitting down in a near by chair and settling into a brooding posture.

"But...but what if they come back," Ron squeaked, tightly closing his mouth when Snape regarded him with hard black eyes, one eyebrow slowly rising above the other.

"If they do come back, Mr. Weasley, there will be more than just Dementors. So unless you want to add lack of sleep to the list of what ails you, I suggest you get some rest." Ronald swallowed hard as he watched Snape slowly drag those words out of himself as though he were trying to repress the urge to cuff him.

Both he and Harry threw the restorative potions down their throats, and sat down on either side of Hermione, who was still quite pale from the encounter. Both boys put their arms around her, holding her as much for her benefit as for their own. All three watched Snape watching Hera, before exhaustion pulled their heavy lids over their eyes, and they slid into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Severus watched as the three Gryffindors slept huddled together, not far from where the fourth lay, the color of death on her skin. He had never known that a Tetrid could possess the powers these four had. But then, perhaps Voldemort did. And that was why he had wanted Hera alone, and alive, while the others he wanted dead. Perhaps, also, it was why he was so adamant about killing the first Tetrid; the Marauders. Only a member of a Tetrid could have had the power create the protection that had seen Harry through things that would have left others his age in the grave.

Lily had been a secondary member of that first Tetrid. She had been kindest to Severus while they attended Hogwarts, always sticking up for him if the others played pranks on him or started with their nicknames. And every time he looked at Harry, he was reminded of her. He had her eyes, the color of the moss that covered the walls of Hogwarts.

He would nave never told anyone, but in his own way, he loved Lily. In his darker moments, his mind went back to the kiss she had laid on his cheek on Graduation Day. When he had finely got up the courage to tell her how he felt about her. "I'm sorry, Severus, but James and I are to be married."

Anything else she had said had fallen on deaf ears as his heart shriveled in his chest. He had responded the only way he knew how, with spite. "Well, I hope you enjoy your Pure Blooded husband." His cruel mask settling over his face as he turned on his heel and strode away, unable to hear or care as he broke Lily's heart, and his own with that one sentence.

Snape's head lolled forward, his eyes closing as he fell into a light sleep. His last thoughts troubling his dreams.

XXX

Voldemort sat on a large, high back chair made of dark mahogany. Deep carvings of serpents adorned the back while two great Basilisks made up the arm rests, their heads hissing out into empty space. He was alone, since he had sent his Death Eaters away, letting them stew in their own failure. He sat nearly motionless, his thumb planted on is temple as his fingers stroked his forehead and the short bridge of his nose. He had the ability to divine the location of his followers at any time no matter if they wanted to be found or not. But he was having a trying time discerning Hera's location. His hold on her had been lessened somehow, but not cut completely. He knew that she was not very far away, but her exact location eluded him.

As he meditated, he listened. He could hear his followers' heartbeats through out the castle like the loud drum-beats of those distasteful rock concerts that some witches and wizards of questionable sanity liked to attend. What Voldemort was listening for, was like the rustling of gossamer among the noise of Dumbledor's whistling and clicking gadgets. He had given up trying to find Snape; that treacherous alchemist was as slippery as his name suggested.

Hera had been like deep thunder in the eye wall of a hurricane. That power was what had attracted Voldemort to the young Malfoy woman, that and how she had reacted to him at first sight. He had used a simple illusion charm to make himself look like a normal man, but Hera had see right through the charm without using a counter-charm of her own. And that power is something that could be quite useful when flushing out his enemies without capturing the keeper of secrets for each location.

Suddenly, he heard something, though it was not what he had expected. Perhaps this new distraction could prove worth while pursuing. A slow smile spread across Voldemort's pallid face, nearly splitting it in two. He chuckled, levering himself out of the chair slowly, commanding his yew wand to his right hand. His attention was diverted for a moment, looking over Bellatrix as she hung upside down in his chambers. Perhaps he would give her a second chance to prove herself able to follow orders. And too, if she was found to be lacking, then she would be killed either by the traitors, or himself. Either way, he would have what he wanted; Hera at his side, and Harry at his feet. Voldemort smiled, walking up to the petrified Death Eater, bending down to get his face into her full view. "Feel up to proving yourself?"

XXX

Percy Ignatius Weasley paced the floor of the old muggle hovel, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He hated this place, hated the way he was supposed to blend in among the Muggles like a chameleon. In fact, staying in this cesspool reminded him of his father's office, and he hated those bottom feeders the most. He had thought Ronald to be the more reasonable of his brothers, but he was proven wrong two years ago. Now that the news of Voldemort's return had circulated through the Wizarding community, he had found himself hoping that the Dark Lord would finely tire of those weasels and get rid of them.

He patted the small trinket in his pocket. It had been given to him by a 'friend' of You-Know-Who's, and told him that if he ever wanted to get on the winning side, he need only think His name. The friend had said that his services to the Dark Lord would be greatly rewarded. He would have his choice of mansions, galleons beyond his wildest dreams, and he would be rid of his deluded relatives. Percy would finely own something that belonged only to him, not passed down from his older brother or parents. 'A home of my very own,' he smiled, looking more like the Slytherin than his Gryffindor house crest on his pin portrayed.

Hearing a noise, Percy doused the candles and lifted the thread bare curtains from the window, his brown eyes watching as an entire legion of shadows came floating up the dark drive. Hurriedly he opened the door, letting in no less than six individuals, all wearing dark cloaks pulled up over their heads. There was not much in the way of comfortable furniture in the hovel, but that did not stop Percy from treating his guests like the royalty they were. He offered each a cup of hot tea, nodding as each took a cup, throwing back their hoods to take the first sip. This may be a war, but the pure bloods were going to maintain the proper way of doing things.

Percy sat in an understuffed armchair, taking the last cup of tea. He waited for his guests to warm up as they drank in silence, enjoying the small comforts. Finally, when everyone had finished, Percy sat forward in his chair, rubbing his hands together as he tried to hide his nervousness. One of his guests, whom he was sitting nearest, sat down his empty cup. Revulsion was kept neatly in check on his pale face as he regarded the estranged Weasley. "It comes to our master's attention that you desire a meeting with him."

Each sound was perfectly chosen for its desired effect; the awe it inspired in the masses of simpletons that always dreamt themselves a Malfoy. Even though Lucius was related to this family, he was not about to afford Percy the same niceties he would a member of a higher household. "You can understand why we must be so cautious. These are dark days, young Percy, and we can ill afford surprises. Especially with that Potter out of his cage at Hogwarts."

The hatred that flashed across Percy's face was almost unexpected, though quite refreshing. The elder Malfoy smiled, this one would be useful indeed. "I see we share the same sentiment. Intelligence of your caliber is somewhat lacking in your family, if I may be so bold," he tested, and was rewarded with a look of pride on the Weasley's face. Lucius was delighted to find a Wizard of like mind among that low rabble. "Of course, you realize, there is a price to pay for being so close to the Dark Lord's side,"

Percy went paler than usual. He understood that one needed to prove their loyalty, and their worth to Voldemort before he would consider having that person near him. He had many enemies these days, and one could not be too careful. Especially when one misstep could spell death, or worse; a one way ticket to Azkaban.

He nodded, his throat suddenly dry. He had a feeling what he would be asked to do to prove his fidelity. Though, truth be told, he had eagerly awaited this day. He would finely be able to show his parents how wrong they were.

XXX

Grave Peril. The clock's hand for Ron had been in that position for nearly a week now, and Molly was near the end of her rope. She had finished sending the last of her and her children's belongings through the floo to 12 Grimauld Place, and was waiting for her husband to get home from work so he would not have to travel alone. Her eyes were locked on the clock, which she had saved as their last possession to carry through. Her husband's clock hand was on Mild Danger as he pulled up into the drive in front of the Burrow. Molly nearly bolted out of the house to wrap her arms around her husband.

Molly smiled the best she could as Arthur opened the door, though her hands were doing their best to strangle each other. Both Weasleys were about to carry the last box through the floo, when the door opened again. Percy stepped through, not bothering to close it as he stood in the opening. His wand was out, and in his hand.

He looked like someone had just punched him in the gut, but the indignation in his eyes made his parents step back. Something was not right, and they both knew it when their hands joined their youngest son's in Grave Peril.

"Percy..." Molly started, but was cut off when her son raised his wand at her. Others joined them.

Others dressed in black iridescent cloaks, masks covering half their face, and pointed hats atop their heads. Death Eaters. The Weasley parents clutched each other tightly as they were surrounded by dark wizards on all sides.

"Nothing personal," Percy apologized as he stepped closer to his father, pressing the tip of his wand directly to his heart. "But there is simply too much dirt in this house."

Molly whimpered as Arthur tucked her behind him, meeting his son eye to eye. But there was nothing in the boy's eyes that remained of the son that he had raised. But the elder Weasley refused to show fear on his face, determined to keep his son from feeling any modicum of satisfaction from his death.

Percy smiled, opening his mouth as he spoke the words that would forever damn him. The room was filled with twin bursts of green light, as the hands representing Arthur and Molly snapped off of the clock, clattering to the floor, as the Weasley parents collapsed on top of one another, empty eyes staring at nothing.