What a Witch Needs

A/N Thank you to all who keep sending reviews. This story is for you! Enjoy!

This chapter was beta’d by Narcissa Black – thank you.


Last Words


Dumbledore took one last look around his office, patting his robe pockets which contained his wand and other magical items he knew would be useful in battle. All the army members had already left for the rally point and the rest of the students were secured in their respective houses. He reached out to touch his Portkey when a voice came from his hearth, stopping him from doing so.

“Dumbledore!” the voice called out, harshly.

Dumbledore turned towards his hearth and peered at the face in the flames – Lucius Malfoy.

“Lucius?” Dumbledore responded.

“You old fool! Your beloved Potions Master has just apparated, holding the key to Marlston in his deceitful hand!” Lucius hissed.

Dumbledore stared, disbelievingly. Was this a trick? “That… can’t be…”

“I know what I saw, you trusting fool!” Lucius sneered. “What kind of security did you provide for that key?”

“Well, I… it was in Miss Granger’s care. It was her property,” Dumbledore replied, still in shock at the possibility of deception. “Severus… he… I can’t believe. Are you absolutely certain?”

“I have no more time for your bumbling hesitation,” Lucius announced. “I must inform Lady Marlston and Lord Potter of this.”

Before Dumbledore could question him further, Lucius was gone. He closed his eyes and muttered, “What have I done?” He knew he had to get to Hermione and Harry quickly, before Lucius turned their attentions away from the battle in order to pursue Snape. But if what Lucius said was true, then there was even more to worry about than the death of Voldemort, much more.

But why, why would Severus do such a thing? And if he did, how was he going to get past those entities, Those-Who-Dwell-Below? None of this made sense. Lucius had to be mistaken. He was sure he’d find Severus at base camp with the other Order members. He had to be there.

Dumbledore reached out and touched the Portkey, disappearing immediately.

OOOOOOOOO

Dumbledore appeared at the rally point and noticed that most of the troops had already been transported to base camp near Marlston Village. All that remained were a few Order members, the medical staff and Harry. Dumbledore sighed heavily when he noticed Lucius Malfoy deep in conversation with the Dark Lord.

Anyone injured in battle was to be transported back here, to the rally point, for immediate attention. Madam Pomfrey was one of the staff in charge of setting up cots and organizing the medical supplies. When she saw Dumbledore, she immediately strode over to him. “Professor,” she called.

“I’m in a bit of a hurry, Poppy,” he said, looking about. “Can this wait?”

“I suppose so, sir,” she answered, frowning.

“Have you by any chance seen Severus here tonight?” Dumbledore asked, hoping that she had.

Pomfrey shook her head, “No, I don’t recall seeing him at all. Of course, things have been a bit hectic.”

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, walking off towards Lucius and Harry.

The two wizards turned toward the old man and Dumbledore could tell that Harry had gotten an earful and was trying very hard to control his anger.

“Harry, thank goodness you’re still here,” Dumbledore said. “So Lucius has told you what he saw?”

Harry looked at Dumbledore in silent contemplation before he answered. “I saw it, you know. I saw it long ago. But no one would believe me. And because you trusted him, everyone else did as well.”

Dumbledore looked truly regretful. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry nodded. There was no time to play the blame game. What was done was done. Now solutions had to be found. “You two go on to base camp and find Draco and Hermione. Don’t let them go after Snape, no matter how frantic Hermione gets.”

“What about you, my Lord?” Lucius asked.

“I must arrive last,” Harry replied. “Voldemort will know exactly when I arrive. He’ll feel it. I don’t want them attacking base camp before we’re even ready.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius nodded.

OOOOOOOO

“Mistress! Mistress!” a voice called out. Hermione recognized it immediately and turned to see Bugger, her half-goblin house elf running towards her from the woods. Many people at base camp turned to stare at the strange creature.

“Bugger?” Hermione said, surprised. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right at the house?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Bugger answered, catching his breath. “But not at the village. Terrible, terrible wizards there. I knew you would come, Mistress. I knew you and the Masters would save us! Bugger is here to help.”

“Thank you, Bugger. It is good to see you again,” she replied. “How did you know where our camp was?”

“Those-Who-Dwell-Below told me, Mistress,” Bugger replied. “They told me you were here. Don’t worry, Mistress. No one saw me come. Bugger knows many secret ways.” Bugger looked past Hermione’s shoulder and let out a growl. Hermione stood and turned, finding Lucius and Dumbledore behind her. Lucius sneered at Bugger, remembering the treatment he received at that creature’s hand.

“Don’t worry, Bugger,” Hermione said. “He’s on our side, truly.”

“Miss Granger, I have some disturbing news for you,” Dumbledore said.

Draco had now come up to her side when he saw his father and Dumbledore together, a very unusual combination.

Hermione held Draco’s hand, bracing herself for bad news. “Yes?”

“Were you aware that your key, the one to Marlston, had gone missing?” Dumbledore asked.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide with fear. “What are you saying?”

“I saw Snape with it, my Lady,” Lucius said, cutting to the chase. “He apparated with it in his hand.”

Hermione’s hand lifted to her heart. “That can’t be. I had it locked… in my… chest.”

“Have you checked on it lately?” Lucius asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t think… anyone… Oh, Gods!” She turned her face onto Draco’s shoulder as he put his arm about her waist.

“Are you certain?” Draco asked his father.

“Yes, it’s a very distinctive key. I remembered it clearly,” Lucius replied.

“Mistress,” Bugger said. “It’s all right. They will kill him, Those-Who-Dwell-Below will not allow him to be there without you. They will know that you hate him. He will die.”

This did not seem to console Hermione. Her face seemed just as upset at the news that Snape would die. She looked ill at the conflicting emotions running through her. One part of her screamed for his death, and the other for mercy.

“If I may,” Dumbledore spoke. “Professor Snape knew of those creatures. He knew that he could not enter Marlston without you, even with the key. Why would he go? Perhaps he merely apparated elsewhere.”

“That’s true,” Draco said, “he did know, unless he somehow found a way around that stipulation. But I don’t see how.”

Dumbledore was watching Hermione’s face carefully. “You know, don’t you, Miss Granger? Perhaps not consciously, but you do know.”

Hermione shook her head, confused. Dumbledore stepped towards her and looked deep in her eyes. “Think, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore asked, his voice lower an octave. “Remember…”

Hermione blinked a few times, her breath quickening as images began surfacing in her mind. Potions… exams… happiness… Snape…! Her hand gripped Draco’s shoulder and she looked at him in alarm. “I remember something! He took them… my feelings… he took them and put them in a memory ball.”

Dumbledore’s heart filled with dread. “What sort of feelings, Miss Granger?”

Hermione looked at Dumbledore, trying to recall. “Love… my feelings for Harry and Draco… he asked about those.” Her expression became one of panic. “Oh Gods, he’s using those to trick them. He’s using my love!”

“Very clever,” replied Lucius. “But it still doesn’t answer the question of why? What does he want at Marlston?”

Hermione swayed dizzily and Draco had to hold on to her tighter. “He asked me about Marlston, I remember that now.”

Dumbledore put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, my dear. You were most likely drugged. However, the situation is more urgent than I had anticipated. He must be stopped.”

OOOOOOOO

Severus Snape had apparated into the foyer of Marlston Manor, quickly pulling the memory ball from his pocket. Screaming began, all around him, deafening him, and the air grew thick. He quickly opened the memory ball and held it under his nose, inhaling deeply.

A feeling came over him, such a heady one. Never before had any potion he had taken made him feel this good. Love… so this was what it felt like. He closed his eyes, basking in the unfamiliar feeling. When he opened them again, he was startled to find thirteen painted warriors of old, wielding axes and approaching him with deadly glares. Blue war paint, streaked across their faces, brawny chests, and kilts of some sort, made them appear like they walked straight out of history from about 500 A.D.

Severus cleared his mind carefully, letting only the feelings of Hermione’s love pulsate throughout his body. This had to work! Still they slowly approached him, looking him over with disgust, axes ready to strike and growls emanating from their mouths. Snape closed his eyes, filling his mind with images of Hermione, as if he loved her and she loved him. If this didn’t work, he would soon find out, by the blades of thirteen axes.

When the growling stopped, he dared to open his eyes, finding the thirteen warriors staring at him, confusion on their faces. They no longer approached, but seemed undecided about what to do. They looked to each other and then back to Snape.

Snape’s heart soared with relief. Yes! This may work after all.

“My love, she sent me,” Snape said. “See, she has given me this key.” He held out the key to Marlston in his palm. The warriors looked down at his hand and then back to his face. “She has asked me to guard Merlin for her, while she fights to save the village. She said you would show me the way.”

The warriors studied him further and Snape did his best to block any images in his mind that would give him away. He wondered if this was all of them. Those-Who-Dwell-Below: were there only thirteen? He had only seen three together at one time before.

Then the warriors parted before him, leaving a pathway that led to a particularly big one. The big one turned, leading the way, and Snape looked around at the others before he followed behind the big warrior down a hallway to the left. He looked behind him and noticed that the others did not follow.

Finally the warrior stopped and a wooden panel on the wall opened up next to him. Snape slowed his steps and cautiously approached. The warrior pointed inside and Snape wondered why the entity did not lead him in.

When Severus reached the opening he peered in, recognizing the Hall of Portraits from Hermione’s mind. It was enormously long, stretching so far away that it was difficult to see the end. Snape looked at the warrior and again he pointed to the far end of the Hall of Portraits before them. Severus understood that the warrior would go no further; he was now on his own. Perhaps those creatures couldn’t enter this hall, he contemplated.

He walked five feet in, gazing up at the old portraits of Marlston ancestry, a wealth of history in this one room alone. But he had no time to linger. He had to continue on before someone noticed he was missing from the battle. He looked behind him and noticed that the warrior was no longer there. He had vanished.

Severus felt relieved. He would no longer have to strain and guard his thoughts if those creatures had truly left him alone. He walked on, noticing that the portraits in this part of the hall did not move. They must be very old, he guessed. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case as he progressed further and further down. Gasps and questions began to come towards him from all sides. They demanded to know who he was and where he thought he was going. When Severus ignored them and quickened his stride, they became angrier and more anxious. Many of the women were now screaming at him and the men threatening him.

Snape kept his vision focused straight ahead, trying to block out the roaring from both sides. The portraits began to shake and rattle against the wall as they grew angrier and angrier at his intrusion. Then the floor began to shake and Severus opened his eyes wide with shock when the ground beneath him rose up like a wave, trying to knock him backwards. He braced his hands on the wall as the wave lifted him, causing him to stumble a bit, but he managed to keep his balance.

He knew he had to get out of this blasted hall quickly. He moved forward, having to brace himself against the wall multiple times as more shaking and more waves endeavored to unbalance him and portraits screamed for his demise. At one point, as he held onto the wall, he felt warm liquid flowing over his hands and he gasped when he saw that it was blood!

Looking around frantically, he noticed that all the portraits were now pouring blood from behind their frames, quickly saturating the floor. Snape slipped and slid in the warm liquid. “Blast you all!” he yelled.

He resigned that he would not be walking out of here and slid along the bloody floor, swimming on his belly at times and kicking off from the wall sides as he tried to reach the far end of the hall.

Drenched, he was drenched in blood!

A last big wave of the floor propelled him forward and he slid on his belly towards the end of the hall, the wooden door at the end of it looking like paradise. He crashed into the door and grabbed the knob, surprised that it was unlocked. He used the knob to pull himself up from the slippery floor as the door cracked open and humid air hit his wet, bloody face.

Quickly he scrambled into the room, panting heavily and closing the door behind him. It was completely dark in this room, but calm, exactly what he needed at this moment. Severus slid down the wall, sitting against it to catch his breath.

Soon the Dark Lords would be dead and all this would be worth it, he told himself.

He stuck his hand into his deep robe pocket, which was also filled with blood. He sighed in relief that his wand was still there. He pulled it out and flicked the blood off of it, muttering a quick, “Lumos.”

He was in some sort of stone room and…

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, standing back on his feet and pressing himself against the wall. Snakes! Snakes, everywhere, practically covering the whole floor and on the far side of the room was another door.

Snape knew that there would be obstacles. He had anticipated that releasing Merlin would not be a simple task. But he was exhausted from his journey down the bloody Hall of Portraits, his robes drenched. And, now, he had to contend with these snakes in order to continue on his way. Already they were moving around, smelling the blood in the air.

OOOOOOO

The troops stood quietly in orderly rows, waiting for Harry to arrive. They all knew the plan, the captains had explained multiple times so that no one would have a question as to what they were to do.

The airborne troops stood with their brooms in one hand and wands in the other, the ground troops only with their wands. The air around them was cold, but no fires were allowed. Still, sweat trickled down foreheads and breathing, heavy with anticipation, were the only sounds heard.

So far it seemed that they had succeeded in arriving at base camp undetected, yet they threw nervous glances in the direction of the village, though they were well hidden by a thick glade.

A dark figure floated down amongst them and they felt relieved when Moody softly called out, “Potter.”

He was here. It would all begin soon. Hearts sped up and wands were gripped tighter.

Harry threw off his hood and lit his wand. Looking around at the orderly troops waiting for what was to come. They all looked at him, Harry Potter, to lead them into battle. Harry wanted to yell, he felt like telling them all to run and lock themselves inside somewhere. He felt responsible for each and every one of them and it was almost too much to bear.

He turned his face, looking at each person, trying to make eye contact, memorizing their faces. Some nodded back at him in encouragement. Then he closed his eyes and opened his senses, focusing on his enemy. Yes, he could feel him – Voldemort. He was near, in the village. He knew Harry was there as well. There was a sense of smugness, of mocking, of daring Harry to come and face him. Harry could sense no panic on Voldemort’s part. There was no rush to arms or order giving to his Death Eaters.

Harry could feel it. They were waiting, allowing Harry the first move.

Harry feared that it would be so. He had hoped to draw them here, away from the village and the villagers. But as he suspected, Voldemort want them to come to him. This did not bode well for the people of Marlston, who were sure to be used as pawns – expendable.

Harry opened his eyes and took a deep breath. “Silence is no longer required,” he said aloud. “They know we’re here.” Everyone looked at each other nervously and then back to Harry. “They want us to make the first move. And we will. I trust that everyone knows the first phase of attack?” Harry looked about again. There were small nods all around. “Good.” Harry said.

This couldn’t be it. Harry knew he had to say more. He was leading his army into battle, and some of them… some of them may never return. He owed them words of courage, words of strength. His eyes caught Hermione’s and Draco’s, watching him from the back of the troops. Dumbledore stood next to them and Harry knew that he’d have to deal with the ‘other’ matter as well. He had been thinking about it before arriving in base camp, pondering the options.

“I want you to know,” Harry continued, “how proud I am of each and every one of you here tonight. I’ve seen your strength, your determination, your skill, and the thought of that fills me with such certainty that we can do nothing but succeed tonight. I have no doubts, whatsoever, that tonight will be the last of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.” Harry could sense the slight shift in their confidence at his words. Yes, they needed these words. They wanted to know that victory was at hand.

Harry could feel his own strength, flowing up from his chest and into his throat. He could feel the power that laced his words with magic. Somehow, he felt that whatever he said to them, they would believe it. His next words were said in a voice that Harry knew he had never spoken before, yet no one else seemed to notice the difference.

“I give to you the protection and strength of my blood,” he announced. He lifted his forearm and with a caress of his finger, a long cut began to seep blood. Harry dipped his finger in it and held it up. “Who wishes to receive it?”

Ron stepped up without hesitation, looking Harry in the eyes as he stood before him. Harry painted a lightening bolt, in the fashion of his own scar, on Ron’s forehead. When everyone saw this, they gathered in line behind Ron, wanting all the power and protection they could get.

As Harry marked his army, Hermione turned to Draco with a worried expression. “Didn’t you tell me that people should never give anyone their blood, that it could be used against you in Dark rituals?”

“I don’t think Dark rituals could ever work against Harry, love. If one could get rid of a Dark Lord with a ritual, then Voldemort would have perished long ago.”

“Oh,” she answered. She was anxious to speak to Harry, anxious to stop Snape, and only the waves of reassurance coming from the powerful white wizard standing behind her, stopped her from running off to the manor. Harry had told Dumbledore not to let her leave without speaking to him. That meant Harry had a plan – a plan she was very anxious to hear.

When Harry had finished marking his army, he made his way to where Hermione and Draco stood. “Give me your wands,” he said, before they could say anything to him.

“Harry?” Hermione started…

“Give them to me,” he repeated. They both took out their wands and Harry smeared them liberally with his blood. “There,” he said, “now I can be with you at the manor, even if I’m here in the village.”

They suddenly understood what Harry meant. He knew that in order to stop both Snape and Voldemort, the triad had to be split. He was lending his power to them through his blood, so that the triad could still bring them strength.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said, looking at him anxiously. “You need us here. But…”

“I know you have to go,” Harry said. “It’s even more important than being here in the greater scheme of things.” He handed their wands back to them. “This is the only way I can be in two places at once.”

Draco took his wand and spelled his own arm to cut open. “Then we’ll do the same, Harry. The triad can still be with you as well.” Since Harry no longer used a wand, Draco painted a stripe down Harry’s cheek.

“Yes, that’s it,” Hermione agreed, and did the same. “We will be with you too, Harry.”

“How will you get to the manor?” Harry asked.

“Bugger says he knows a secret way. We won’t have to go in the village,” she answered.

Harry noticed for the first time that Bugger was standing a little ways behind Hermione. He bowed to Harry and said, “Master, Bugger will take them there.”

“I’ll be with them too, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “After all, I feel partly to blame for what has happened.”

Harry nodded at Dumbledore. His troops were all waiting for him to begin phase one of the battle. But there was one more thing he had to do. Harry took Hermione and Draco’s hands and led them deeper into the glade, out of sight of the others.

He cupped Hermione’s face in both his hands and said, “You can do this. I know it.”

She nodded bravely, trying not to let her tears begin.

He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her, wrapping his arms about her body when Hermione grabbed onto his and held tight. He broke the kiss and whispered against her throat. “I love you. I love so much.”

Hermione squeezed him tighter, her cheek pressed against his heart. “I love you too, Harry. I’ll always love you.”

They stepped apart and Harry turned to Draco, who also seemed on the verge of tears. He stepped closer to him and they gaze at one another for a moment. “That blood better work, Harry,” Draco muttered, uncomfortable at the feelings inside.

Harry slipped his arms around his back, threading a hand through Draco’s hair and pulling him towards his face. “Shut up and kiss me,” Harry said, taking Draco’s trembling mouth into his. They kissed deeply until Dumbledore interrupted.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said, “we really should be on our way. Time is of the essence.”

They broke the kiss and Harry said, “All right.” Dumbledore left the glade to wait. Hermione embraced them both in a three-way hug and then began to walk away before she started crying again.

Harry put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and said in a soft voice, “I love you. Never doubt that.”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t. I love you too, Harry.”

Harry leaned forward towards Draco’s ear and whispered, “If they won’t do it, then you have to. No mercy for Snape. He has to die.” He backed his face away and looked Draco in the eyes.

Draco nodded, and with a last desperate glance, followed Hermione out of the glade.

OOOOOO

A/N Phew! That was a challenging one for me to write. I’m definitely more of a dialog person and having to write the scene with Snape in Marlston was challenging for me.

So, as you can now tell, there will be two plots happening simultaneously – the battle in the village and what’s happening in the manor house with Snape. I will be switching back and forth between the two, because the timing of everything that is happening is vital to the overall plot.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this latest chapter. Please send me your thoughts on it. Thanks! Till next time…