Forsaken
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
50
Views:
2,134
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
50
Views:
2,134
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Back to the Way Things Were
Disclaimer: All rights pertaining to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.
~~+~~+~~+~~
Chapter 3 - Back to the Way Things Were
While the Council began their manhunt, the man they hunted stood watch over a plain, two-story house in the middle of muggle suburbia. Severus tapped his head with his wand once again, shuddering at the feel of the Disillusionment charm sliding down his neck. A car turned down the street. He watched as it pulled into the drive of the house he was watching. The driver’s door opened, and a huge man clamored out of the car.
“Get your junk inside,” he growled to his passenger in the back seat. “Now.”
“I need my stuff!” said Harry fiercely as he threw open the back door. “How am I supposed --“
“I don’t give a damn what you want to do with it,” said Vernon loudly. He paused briefly and continued in a quieter voice. “It’s going back into the cupboard where it belongs. I am sick of your lip, boy.” He backhanded Harry hard, sending him stumbling into the car. Severus clenched his wand tightly in his hand, his blood boiling under his skin. To his utter shock, the boy simply pushed himself upright and said nothing.
Oh, you lucky bastard, thought Severus furiously.
“Not so tough now, are you, you freak,” taunted Vernon, grabbing the front of Harry’s shirt and throwing him up against the side of the car. Harry immediately began to struggle back, not noticing his wand slipping a bit further out of his back pocket. With unexpected slickness, Vernon managed to pull the wand out and slide up his sleeve without Harry or Severus seeing it. He flung Harry to the ground, giving him a hard kick for good measure as he quickly waddled to the back of the car.
Harry laid on the ground completely winded, pain radiating from his back. He watched helplessly as Vernon carried his stuff into the house. His lungs ached as he breathed shallowly, the huge bruise on his back from Snape’s spell making itself felt once more. He rolled over on to his stomach and pressed his hands into the gravel, pushing himself to his knees.
Forgetting himself for a split second, Severus took a few steps towards the boy to help him up. With the speed of a Seeker, Harry reached back for his wand. Severus could see the panic immediately set in, feeling it seize his own mind as his sharp eyes flicked over the ground. Harry ran his hands over the gravel in the drive, cutting his hands on the rocks as he tried desperately to find his wand. After a minute, Harry sighed, running a hand through his wild hair. He froze suddenly, turning ever so slowly towards the house. Gritting his teeth, he got to his feet and made his way up the sidewalk.
Severus waited until the front door slammed before running to the window. He crammed the end of an Extendable Ear from his pocket underneath the window sill, watching as Vernon and Harry wrestled with one another. With a great push from Vernon, Harry stumbled and fell into the fireplace, knocking some of Petunia’s knickknacks off the mantle and shattering them on the brickwork.
“Vernon, stop!” shrieked Petunia. “They’ll come for us, Vernon! Please!”
“I’m not afraid of those weirdoes in their capes!” growled Vernon. He kicked Harry in the stomach. Petunia grabbed Vernon’s arm.
“Vernon, stop it!” cried Petunia, tears streaming down her face. Vernon ignored her pleading. He reached down and grabbed Harry by his shirt collar and dragged him out of the room. Severus heard a door slam upstairs, followed by the jangling of keys and the clicking of a lock. He cursed Albus once again, frustrated at his inability to break cover at this time since Harry hadn’t seen the memories in the pensieve. I hope you are watching every minute of this, old man, thought Severus hatefully. This is all your fault.
“You are not to feed him, Petunia,” heard Severus. “He needs to be taught a lesson.” Another door shut. Severus was about to pull on his Ear when he heard soft footsteps on the stairs. He waited, listening to the footsteps move down the hallway, then return. Petunia reentered the room, broom and dustpan in hand. She mechanically swept up the broken porcelain, her eyes completely focused on her task despite the tears streaming down her face. On her way out of the room, she switched off the lamp, throwing the room into darkness.
Severus waited until the upstairs light went out before drawing his wand. He lifted it to cast a ward detection charm when a searing pain radiated up his left arm. He ran to the side of the house and cancelled his Disillusionment while occluding his concern and worry about Harry to be undetectable. A flick of his wand produced his cloak and mask. Within seconds, Severus was gone from Privet Drive.
He reappeared in the Dark Lord’s receiving chamber, which was quickly becoming more and more crowded as the others arrived. He quickly moved towards his place at the right hand of the Dark Lord’s chair, but stopped at the sight of someone standing in his place. Before he could snarl at the person to move, the room fell silent. A voice spoke from behind him.
“Something wrong, Severus?” said Voldemort quietly. Severus turned and knelt, keeping his head bent.
“No, my lord,” he answered, his mind spinning in worry, fear, and anger. Voldemort smiled.
“Good,” said Voldemort. “Because I have decided that a servant such as yourself does not belong mixed in with this rabble. From now on, you are to stand at my side during our meetings.”
Severus exhaled softly. He reached out for the hem of Voldemort’s dirty cloak, pressing it to his lips.
“I am honored, my lord,” replied Severus, hoping that his shaky tone sounded grateful enough.
“Rise, Severus,” said Voldemort. Severus did as asked. He almost burst out laughing at the incredulous look of jealousy in the dark eyes of the one who had taken his place in the circle. He smiled behind his mask at Bellatrix before turning his attention back to Voldemort.
“My friends,” said Voldemort in a loud voice. “This is the hour. This is the hour when our foes will fall before us! Tonight is the beginning of the end of the Order of the Phoenix!”
A huge cry went up from those gathered. The hair on the back of Severus’s neck stood on end, his stomach dropping to the floor. Voldemort held out his hand. The room fell silent once more.
“Now that Dumbledore is out of the way,” continued Voldemort, glancing significantly at Severus, “we can be a bit bolder in our attacks. However, before we begin the final stages of my plan, we will need the help of some of our old friends, those of our number who have been taking a little holiday on the sea.”
He walked through the back of the circle towards a blank wall. With a few taps of his wand, the stone was transfigured into a huge chalkboard, with a blueprint of Azkaban prison drawing itself onto the slate.
“There are very few weak points in the fortress,” explained Voldemort. He pointed at two points on the map, highlighting them. “These look to be the only viable exits that we can secure.” Severus took a deep breath and pushed down the side of him that was horrified at the idea of storming the prison.
“The warding will be very thick, Master,” said a grizzled voice from the crowd. “The Ministry’s probably gone and cranked things up a bit, since you recalled the Dementors to you.”
“It will not be anything higher than Aurory-level warding,” said Severus disdainfully. “It can easily be broken with a bit of caution and enough uninterrupted time.” And there is only one person here who can break through, he finished silently.
“By who?” snarled another voice from the crowd. “Aurory-level warding is supposed to be nearly impossible to crack. You’d have to be bloody mental to even attempt it.”
“And even if you do get in, you would have to deal with the Auror guard,” said yet another voice, this one weak and trembling.
“They can be dealt with fairly simply,” injected Voldemort. “A well-aimed Killing Curse can slay even the mightiest of wizards. Isn’t that right, Severus?”
“Yes, my lord,” replied Severus coldly, glancing over his shoulder at the source of the voice. Wormtail’s watery eyes stared back at him in undisguised horror.
“I have no worries about the warding,” said Voldemort casually. “Severus is more than capable of breaking any wards set up by those miserable wretches of the Auror Corps.”
“And what if he can’t break them?” asked a female voice. Voldemort simply raised his eyebrow as Severus resisted the urge to turn and fire any number of painful curses that flitted through his mind.
“I’m not sure that someone of Snape’s background can handle something as important as this, master,” taunted Bellatrix, her tone mockingly humble and subservient. “I don’t -“
“Severus is the only one capable of leading this mission,” instructed Voldemort firmly, causing Bellatrix to shut her mouth. “He will take down the warding around -“ he looked over the blueprint of the prison for a few seconds, “-- the back entrance, here. The few of you chosen to be a part of this mission will receive passworded portkeys the day of the attack that will take you to the back gate. From there, Severus will instruct you on how to help our friends escape. All of you will report back here immediately, where the rest of us will be awaiting your arrival. Until then, stay out of sight or you will suffer the consequences. You may go. Severus, stay a moment.”
Severus waited as the rest of the Death Eaters disapparated with loud pops and cracks. Soon the room was completely empty, save the two of them. Voldemort glided to his chair and sat, arranging his robes around him. Severus faced him and clasped his hands in front of him as he reinforced his occlumency shields.
“I am relying on you, Severus,” said Voldemort softly. “I will need all of our comrades from the prison in order to proceed. If we can get Dolohov out, he may be able to make some contacts at Durmstrang that will avail us.”
“Very good, my lord,” murmured Severus.
“But Severus,” said Voldemort intently, “I will need you most of all. If, for some unforeseen reason, things begin to go ill at Azkaban, I want you back here immediately. Leave the others. If they aren’t able to get themselves out, then I don’t need them. Are we clear?”
“Yes, my lord,” said Severus, his heart leaping back into his chest as a ray of hope shone through the darkness of his task.
“Good,” said Voldemort. “I want you on the island and breaking through the wards around the back entrance no later than eleven on Thursday next. You may go.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Severus, bowing low before the Dark Lord. He turned on his heel and arrived back beside the bridge near the river. He quickly removed his cloak and mask and sprinted back to Spinner’s End. His mind was already spinning with ideas on how to alert the Order to the attack. This larger plot was something big. Most likely it had something to do with Potter. He would need someone on the Council to help him, someone gutsy enough to act first and ask permission later.
~~+~~+~~+~~
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Kingsley rolled over and slammed his hand down on his alarm clock. He cracked one of his bloodshot eyes open and groaned.
Six a.m. He was due at the Ministry by 6:45 so he could be at the muggle PM’s office by nine. He’d only been asleep for three hours.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered angrily, throwing the covers off of him. “One day. That’s all I ask. One day of sleep.” He climbed out of bed and groggily made his way to the bathroom of his tiny flat. He showered quickly, keeping the water a little cool to help wake him up. He dressed in his usual black and green Auror Corps robes and carefully packed a black suit and tie for his other job. He went into the kitchen to make a quick cup of coffee as he waited on his copy of The Daily Prophet to arrive.
An owl soared through the window at 6:30. Kingsley slipped a sickle into the pouch on its leg and took the paper from its beak. The owl immediately flew out the window. He unrolled the paper and froze at seeing a slip of parchment drop to the floor. He threw the paper onto the table and drew his wand. He cast several detection charms and spells on the note, just in case the parchment had been jinx or cursed, but it was clean. Very carefully, Kingsley bent and picked up the parchment, ready to drop it again at the first sign of something malicious. He held it away from his face and unfolded it.
There will be a party at Azkaban this evening at midnight. Bring as many of your friends as you can find. This is your only invitation.
“What in the hell?” muttered Kingsley. He reread the message several times. The script was fluid, but obviously the results of a Dictation charm, hiding the author’s handwriting and, by extension, their identity. A feeling of apprehension settled in the pit of Kingsley’s gut. He checked his watch.
“Shit,” he moaned. He stuffed the message in his pocket, crammed the newspaper under his arm, grabbed his bag from the chair, and disapparated to his cubicle.
~+~
“You’re late.”
“It is 6:47,” said Kingsley tersely, turning around to see Robards leaning against his cubicle. Robards sneered slightly at all of the pictures of a sallow-faced man lining Kingsley’s small work space.
“Not very photogenic, is he?” smirked Robards. Kingsley tossed the paper onto his desk that was overwhelmed by sheaves of parchment and sat down. He pulled open some drawers, looking for a spare quill and some ink.
“There’s a meeting at eight,” said Robards. “All field agents are to be there. Scrimgeour’s giving a briefing.”
“Oh good,” said Kingsley morosely, finally finding a usable quill and half a jar of ink. “I do so love his briefings.”
“Don’t we all,” muttered Robards. “I don’t have any idea what he could possibly be briefing us on. Maybe he’s pulling in some of you guys and reassigning you. I think he forgets sometimes that he’s not Head of the Corps anymore. In any case, I’ll need that report on the Malfoy kid on my desk before you go home today.”
“It’ll be there,” said Kingsley. He shuffled through the stacks of paperwork and found the incomplete report he had started the day before. “Did the Sweepers find anything?”
“A few things, but nothing earth-shattering,” said Robards. “Weasley’s got some of it over in his department if you want to take a look at it.” Kingsley nodded thoughtfully.
“I may do that later,” said Kingsley, grabbing an empty folder off one of his shelves. Robards gave him a nod and walked down to his office at the end of the hall.
By 7:45, Kingsley had barely even made a dent in the mounds of parchment before him. He tossed his quill on the desk and rubbed his face hard with his hands. Maybe he should take an office job for a while, just so that he could see the top of his desk again.
He leaned back in his seat and pulled out the wadded scrap of parchment from his pocket. Out of the six - five, he mentally chided himself, Council members, he was always the most eager to follow up suspicious leads and info. He liked digging for clues and finding out if the information was truly genuine or not. Of course, he was always shot down by everyone else. Often times, he would look over at Severus and see a glimmer of excitement in his friend’s normally cold eyes, indicating that the man had the same inquisitiveness about the information as Kingsley did. He had lost count of the number of times they had gotten back to Hogwarts just in time for Severus to step into his classroom to teach after a night of scouting locations and trailing various wizards and witches of note.
You would have made a hell of an Auror, Snape, he thought bitterly, the man’s betrayal burning him like hot coals, if you hadn’t been such a fucking idiot. He glanced back down at the letter in his hand. He drew his wand and touched the tip to the corner of the parchment, watching in silence as the note slowly burned to ashes.