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Chapter Twenty-Five—Run

Bellatrix and Snape struck at the same time, Bellatrix with a Cutting Curse and Snape with a curse that Harry hadn’t learned but which looked like a forked green bolt of lightning.

It must be like, Harry thought, and didn’t even finish the thought, his memory leaping ahead of him to one of his training sessions with Sirius last year. He flicked up a Shield Charm to handle the Cutting Curse and turned to meet the green lightning, casting the countercharm to the spelled Sirius had fired at him with a circle of his wand in the air and a strong, steady chant.

The lightning hit the suddenly solidifying air in front of him and faded away entirely. Harry leaped back instead of grinning in triumph the way he wanted to. This wasn’t a dueling session with Sirius, and no one would pause to praise him. And it wasn’t a dueling session with Snape, where the spells would never have their full power behind them so that he couldn’t be hurt—

He wanted to laugh madly the moment he had that thought. Except that it kind of is.

He wanted to get out of sight. It was the only chance he stood against two Death Eaters. And he had to think of Snape that way for the moment. If he had a chance to hide and recover himself, then he could think of the best way to get Snape to stop attacking without hurting him and capture Bellatrix.

He dropped into a hollow between the roots of the nearest tree, and a red curse went over his head and filled the night with dazzling radiance. Harry shut his eyes and was glad that Snape had made him practice a little with blind dueling.

Not enough. Not nearly enough to survive this—

But there was no reason that he had to think like that, and so Harry forbade himself to do it in the next moment. He began moving instead, aiming back towards the school, glad that it was spring and the grass had mostly replaced the fallen leaves. But then his hand landed on a leaf and crunched anyway, and Bellatrix laughed wildly and sent a blue burst like a firework after him.

“Can’t hide, little baby,” she said, crooning. To Harry’s disgust, she sounded exactly like the way Aunt Petunia used to tell Dudley he had birthday presents waiting. “My little baby, who I’m going to dandle and hold close and bundle up tight.”

That was the only warning Harry had before a bright silver web unfolded in the air above him and dropped over his head, binding his hands to his sides.

*

Draco pounded through the school to the doors of the Great Hall and hesitated a moment outside them. He wondered if he should just burst inside, the way he wanted to do, and rush up to Harry. Finnigan would probably be sitting at the Gryffindor table with him, and Draco wanted to make this revelation in private. It would take some time to convince Harry that Finnigan was even in the wrong, since he was so intent on forgiving him. And then they would need to make sure that Finnigan couldn’t escape before they questioned him.

On the other hand, maybe it would be good to be public about this from the beginning, the way that his mother had been in asking for Harry’s protection.

As he waited there, worrying his lip, a hand clasped his shoulder. Draco spun around, his wand raised, but Narcissa seemed to have guessed he would do that and was already out of range. Her eyes, serene and patient as the full moon, were fixed on his face.

“I knew something was wrong, given the way you ran out of our rooms,” she said calmly. “Draco, what is it?”

Draco paused and swallowed. Then he shook his head. What am I thinking? Of course Mother is on our side, and of course she isn’t going to order me back into hiding as if I were a child or take this less than seriously. I’m almost of age, anyway, and she’s sensible.

“I discovered some information that Harry needs to know immediately,” he whispered. “Finnigan, the boy who burned his possessions and was under Bellatrix’s fear spells earlier in the year, is also related to the Lestranges. I wanted him to know that. I wanted him to realize that Finnigan might still be under her influence.”

His mother’s eyes showed grim comprehension, of course. She knew, as well as he did, that pure-blood magic could be linked to family inheritance, and it wasn’t out of the question that Bellatrix was still influencing Finnigan. If the fear spell had impressed itself deeply on his spirit, then she might be able to make it come and go at will, and Finnigan would think he was behaving normally when she let him have his mind back.

Narcissa lifted her wand and performed a quick spell that Draco didn’t know, but which made a small sphere of blue light appear before her, crosshatched with silver lines. Whatever it showed her made her lips tighten. “Neither Professor Snape nor Potter is in the school right now,” she said. “They’re in the Forbidden Forest.”

Draco’s throat went tight with fear again. Why would they be out there? There was no plausible reason. Even if Snape had wanted to tutor Harry and had ordered him to go on a “detention” into the Forest, it wouldn’t be during dinner.

Draco began running again, this time lighting his wand so that he could see any signs of a passage into the Forest. His mother followed without pause and without complaint.

*

Harry wanted to scream as he discovered that the web wound itself more tightly around him when he struggled. It tangled his legs and even sank between his fingers, trying to force them apart so that he couldn’t hold his wand anymore.

So stop struggling.

Harry froze when he had that thought. It was the same kind of cold command that he’d given himself at the Dursleys’ the summer before last, when he’d been starving. It was no use thinking about food, so he wouldn’t think of it.

And it was no use panicking or kicking out right now, so he wouldn’t panic or kick out.

He had been in tighter situations in the past, like facing Voldemort. He had managed to escape them. He would escape this time.

Facing Voldemort…

And Harry had his idea. He still had hold of his wand, and he could still perform a simple pass. He whispered a spell that he had used before and then slumped back against the trunk of the tree, letting his eyes roll. Bellatrix would think he’d fainted, he hoped. If she was crazy and proud of her own reputation, then it should be a natural thing for her to conclude.

Thrashing accompanied by soundless steps, and then Bellatrix was in front of him with Snape trailing behind her. Harry watched him carefully, as much as he could under his slitted eyelids. His eyes were way too wide and blank, and he walked as though someone else was manipulating his limbs with strings.

He didn’t attack me willingly. It was all Bellatrix’s doing. Her and her fear spells.

Harry felt a bit of hatred creep into his heart and push out into a black plant. If he had to spend all night doing it, he would make sure that Bellatrix was captured and put away in Azkaban. It was cruel of her to hurt Snape like that.

“I think we’ve got the baby,” Bellatrix said, and began to sing in a cracked voice. “Hush, baby-bye, hush baby.” Her hands reached out and caressed the web as if she weren’t the one who had used the spell, and had no idea of its results.

Harry felt her nails touch his skin, and fought the urge to vomit. You’re unconscious, remember? You don’t know she’s here.

And then he heard the snap of a branch torn off by something flying past it really fast, and he heard Bellatrix’s startled shriek, and he forced himself to roll to the side, using the little movement he had left in the net.

The web stuck to the broom, as he had hoped it would, and then the Firebolt was carrying him above the trees. Harry lay there and laughed for a moment, despite the fact that the web was still around him and the wind almost tore the wand from his hand. He had used the Summoning Charm on the Firebolt for the third time, just like he had with the dragon and Voldemort. And it had worked.

He felt powerful, not useless. He felt like he didn’t need to wait for Snape or Draco to rescue him.

But then two spells exploded near him, with sharp sounds that told him they were Blasting Curses or close relatives, and he realized that he had to stop congratulating himself and actually sit up and do something. And he had to find something that would get the web off him whilst not hurting him or the broom, and not require a lot of wand movement.

He thought about using a Cutting Curse as he steered the broom with his legs and ankles over the Forest’s highest trees, but he decided the web had probably been made to resist such spells. The web and the Cutting Curse were both Dark Arts, and wizards who used them tended to think of other Dark spells first when they were trying to come up with magic that couldn’t be easily countered.

Snape was the one who taught me that.

But he had to push aside his grief and concentrate on acting instead. It was the only thing that would help both Snape and him.

Besides, he doubted that he could use the Cutting Curse at close quarters like this without cutting himself instead.

He steered the broom higher as something scraped past his leg. He shivered and watched his breath form in front of him, wondering if he’d be able to manage a Warming Charm with his fingers tied like this—

And then the perfect countercharm for the web came to him. A Chilling Charm didn’t need much movement of the fingers. He twitched his wand and whispered, “Derigesco!”

The web turned brittle and silver at once. Harry moved his fingers again, and this time the slender splinters of ice that the web had become fell away from him and pattered on the ground far below. He laughed and swayed from side to side, breaking the web with easy movements.

Then something hit the bristles of the broom, and the Firebolt was turning parallel to the ground instead of still rising the way Harry wanted it to, and he realized that someone had seized control of it. He cursed and sat up, shivering and aiming his wand at the ground. The minute he found Bellatrix, he would do something permanent to her.

*

Draco had found a faint trail in the grass that seemed to be making for the Forest, but for long moments he was afraid he wasn’t going to find Harry or Professor Snape after all. It was getting dark, and his Point-Me spells were useless, as were his mother’s. Narcissa had said, when Draco asked her about it, “I am afraid that someone has them under several Baffling Charms,” and then shut her lips so hard they made a thin white line in her face.

But it turned out that he didn’t need to worry. Harry seized the most dramatic method of doing things, as usual.

A broom circled past the moon, with a slender figure riding it. Draco saw it at the same moment as a pair of giant pincers encircled the broom’s tail and started steering it back to the Forest. He knew that spell. It was a Guide Spell, banned from Quidditch so long ago that it was usually found only in history books now.

He aimed his own wand, not knowing what he would do with it, when he didn’t know the countercharm to the Guide Spell and he couldn’t see the person casting it. But his mother stepped past him and spoke confidently, a rumbling mix of Latin words that made the pincers vanish and a brilliant white star flare into being over the Forest. Draco watched the star send out beams. Narcissa nodded when one of them vanished among the trees.

“That will be Bellatrix’s location,” she said. “I will handle her. You stay and help your Harry, Draco, as you would be distracted by grief and worry over him otherwise.” And she broke away and strode into the Forest before Draco could object that Finnigan might be with Bellatrix and he should come to help.

He swallowed his protest and turned to look up at Harry. For some reason, something like rain or snow was falling away from the broom, and Draco supposed that Harry might have had to cast some strange spells. He Summoned a broom from the school for himself, and made the charm as strong as he could. The sooner he could join Harry in the air and explain that he had friends here to help him, the happier he would be.

*

Severus felt as though he were climbing, precariously, to the top of a ladder made of sludge. The moment Bellatrix’s attention had shifted away from him and Harry had flown up on the mysteriously appearing broom, his mind had started to change.

He could feel some of the fear easing, and suddenly Bellatrix’s conclusions seemed strange. How in the world could he save Harry by killing him? Bellatrix had been the one assigned by the Dark Lord to kill Harry. Of course what she said to him couldn’t be trusted, and Severus felt like a fool for ever doing so.

But when she spoke to him in the context of his fear, it all seemed so reasonable…

And then another rung solidified beneath his hands, and he understood. She used a fear spell on me. She made me believe that I was going mad and that no one else would share my emotions, which prevented me from confiding in Harry the way I would surely have done otherwise.

Finally released from a prison he hadn’t known was holding him, Severus saw and thought clearly for the first time in months, and outrage raced through him like a brushfire. The fear was still there, clinging in smoky clouds to his thoughts, but it no longer ruled his actions. He could even turn his wand on Bellatrix, who was occupied trying to curse Harry, as long as he kept the movements slow enough that his limbs didn’t stiffen with rejection.

She made me do this. She is the one who made me act in a way that ensured I might lose Harry’s trust forever. She is the one who is responsible for this suffering of mine.

Rage threatened to cloud his perceptions in the same way the fear had done, but Severus managed to hold still and breathe until it had passed. He recited some of the properties of fear spells to himself in an effort to calm down. Fear spells turned the mind against itself, and they were most effective against precisely those who were most able to think their way around fear naturally, which was one reason they had so often been used in the production of traitors. The greater rationality one possessed, the more excuses one could come up with as to why actions under the fear spells continued to be rational.

He had known all that, and he had still allowed himself to be influenced. Severus was disappointed in his own will and fortitude. He had come to think that he was the strongest figure in Harry’s life, the most dependable, compared to the smitten Draco and the crippled Black and the manipulative Dumbledore. He had been corrupted.

But that was not his fault, it was Bellatrix’s.

And he would compel her to pay.

He began carefully, painfully pulling in his energies, ready to send them through his wand in a coordinated blast when he had gathered them enough.

And then Narcissa Malfoy burst out from between the trees, and his and Bellatrix’s plans both changed in the sliding of an instant.

*

Harry shed the last of the ice and promptly cast a Warming Charm on himself. He didn’t know why the force pulling on his broom had vanished, but he was grateful it had.

Maybe Snape came back to himself and gave Bellatrix something to think about.

But Harry ended up shaking his head, because from what he had seen of Snape’s face, he was going to need help to recover, and simply hoping he would was stupid. Someone needed to rescue him. Harry pivoted his broom back towards the Forbidden Forest, confident that Bellatrix would reveal herself with another spell in a moment and then he could swoop down to help. His wand tingled in his palm, and his breathing was softer and smoother than he’d expected it to be. He’d trained for a duel like this for two years now, and he hadn’t actually been injured. He could do this.

“Harry!”

Change of plans, Harry thought, turning and staring incredulously at Draco. Draco was speeding towards him on a school broom, his face so pale that Harry automatically looked for some sign of flowing blood. But Draco flew up to him and grabbed him around the shoulders instead, pulling him in for a long, silent hug. Harry hugged him back, though he was more anxious now than ever. If Draco was on the battlefield, then there was a high chance Bellatrix would hurt him.

“Draco? What are you doing here? How did you know I was out here with them?” He jerked his head at the Forest.

“I learned from my book that Finnigan is related to the Lestranges,” Draco said in a distracted voice, running his hands over Harry’s shoulders and down his back. Harry wasn’t sure if he was looking for injuries or just trying to calm himself, but either way he tried to hover as motionlessly as possible so that Draco could touch him. “I wanted to come tell you, and then I realized that you weren’t at dinner when my mother cast a spell to help find you.”

“Your mother?” Harry cursed under his breath and looked down into the Forest. “Snape is with Bellatrix, Draco. Under her control or something. Your mother might be walking into a trap.”

“Well, then.” Draco pulled back onto his own broom, in control again so fast that Harry was amazed. He pointed his wand towards the trees and moved it up and down as if he was writing the number 11 in the air. Nothing happened to Harry’s eyes, but Draco seemed satisfied. “She’s over here,” he said, and dived.

Harry followed without hesitation. If he could dodge in and out between the stands in a Quidditch game, then he could do the same through the branches in the Forbidden Forest.

*

Draco kept his eyes on the soft white glow, which only someone with Malfoy blood could see. It would make everyone who was of the family, or married into the family, shine when a certain spell was cast.

He was worried, remembering that Bellatrix was mad and Snape was a great duelist, but he was confident that they would reach his mother in time. Harry was safe. That meant his mother had to be.

He twisted around to avoid a branch, and then Harry was right there with him, head ducked to the point that Draco winced for his neck. He dodged around a trunk, and Harry was there with him, flying sideways. They flew beneath a rustling canopy of leaves together and suddenly came into open air over a broad clearing.

Two figures were dueling below. Draco recognized his mother by the movement of her bright robes. And the woman facing her had to be his aunt Bellatrix. Draco shuddered. She looked like Black, but the expression of twisted madness on her face was horrifying and half-destroyed the resemblance.

Swaying next to them was Professor Snape, whose wand kept wavering back and forth. He looked as though he wanted to fight against whatever Bellatrix was doing to him, but Draco didn’t know if he would be able to.

And Draco knew he would have to handle the main part of the Snape-rescuing, because Harry wasn’t a good enough Occlumens. He pulled himself up, drew his wand, and said, “I’m going to make sure that Professor Snape joins the battle on my mother’s side, Harry. Guard my back and defend my mother if you can.”

He hurtled down thirty feet, to a height where he trusted that he would gain Bellatrix’s attention. She looked at him briefly, cackled, and then turned back to Narcissa. But Snape, his eyes following Bellatrix’s command the way they had to, looked at him and went on looking.

Draco was glad. Legilimency was easier with eye contact—not that anything would be easy about this, but he didn’t need obstacles that he could get rid of with ordinary precautions.

“Legilimens,” he said, and then a ravening whirlwind ripped him from the broom and drowned him in fear. The last sound he heard that he could be sure belonged to the real world was Harry’s voice yelling Latin words in a mixture of grief and pain, fury and love.

*

Severus was still struggling against Bellatrix’s commands. Now and then she wanted him to hurt Narcissa, but she didn’t seem to notice yet that he hadn’t done so. She thought it was too good a joke that her sister was fighting her, Severus thought bitterly. So far, Bellatrix had made at least three disgusting jokes about times she and Narcissa had been together as children that Severus never wanted to hear again.

So he could hold out against her, but for how long? Severus had seen Bellatrix in battle before this. Her amusement would last until she herself was seriously wounded, and then she would shift to hysterical rage in an instant and think only of destroying her enemy. And Severus was still not completely free of her hold on his body, though his mind cleared every movement.

Something dropped from above like a dragon. Severus would have looked up instinctively, but it helped that Bellatrix looked at it, and she didn’t follow the movement with an immediate command, so Severus could keep looking.

And then Draco’s eyes were boring into his, and his mind was reaching out, sliding into Severus’s like a hand sliding into one poised to receive it.

I’m here, Professor Snape. I’ll help you if I can.

It was the first reassuring Legilimency that Severus had ever experienced. When his mind made contact with the Dark Lord’s, it was in battle, and the same thing had occurred with Dumbledore in the past when the Headmaster attempted to read his thoughts without Severus’s permission. Trying to teach Harry had been a disaster. But this was the work of someone not as delicate as Severus himself, but experienced enough to lend strength where it was most needed. Severus seized control of the power and pulled it like a rope covered with cleaning cloths across his mind, scrubbing fiercely at the oily patches of fear.

The emotion fled, and when Draco caught on to what he was doing and began doing it himself, then Severus was free to try and regain control of his body. He sent his will flooding into his arms and fingers, forcing his fingers to move independently, and then to clench on his wand. His arms relaxed from the stiff posture Bellatrix had kept him in, and then he whirled on her.

Bellatrix had just forced Narcissa into a defensive posture, and was cackling insanely as she dug at her feet with red spells that Severus knew mimicked the effects of particular poisonous potions. Narcissa showed no more sign of effort than the pallor of her face, but Severus knew that maintaining such a strong, all-purpose Shield Charm was draining her quickly. She would have lost if Bellatrix had forced Severus to join the fight.

Severus knew exactly what spell he wanted to cast on Bellatrix to pay her back for the months of terror, the visions of his mother, and the idea that Harry would die at the Dark Lord’s hands no matter what happened. His lips barely moved as he spoke the syllables; he could have cast it nonverbally, as strong as he felt then, except that he didn’t want to take the smallest chance that something might have gone wrong. “Implico mentem!”

Bellatrix uttered a short cry as the spell reached her and surrounded her in a green prism. Then her body slumped forwards and she began to grope at the air around her with shaking hands. Her wand dropped unnoticed into the dirt. Severus summoned it to him with a contemptuous flick of his own wrist and tucked it carefully deep into a pocket. He thought it best if he kept it for some time, even avoiding its surrender to Dumbledore. In misguided compassion for one Severus knew was a merciless beast, Dumbledore would probably place it too near her.

Draco landed his broom next to his mother, reaching out and encircling her shoulders with an arm as if he wanted to hold her close and prevent her from ever having to battle again. Narcissa let her shield fall and smiled gently at him. Severus thought she was amused at the reversal of roles, considering how often and for how long she had protected Draco from the harsher realities of his life as a Death Eater’s son, but Draco didn’t notice. He was staring at Severus with a serious, searching expression, as if trying to learn from the outside whether all traces of the fear spell were gone.

“What did you do to her?”

And that question is Harry’s, Severus thought, as he turned to him and caught the boy’s eye. Harry had landed his broom not far from Draco and turned his face cautiously between Severus and Bellatrix. Of course it is.

“I have entangled her mind,” Severus said, making sure to keep his voice gentle and reassuring. No need for violence at the moment, especially when violence would probably only make Harry flinch back from him and return to the distrust that had endured since last year. “She does not see the world as it is, but a mental prison of her own nightmares.”

Harry winced. “That’s—”

“She has controlled my mind for the last four months,” Severus said sharply. He couldn’t help the sharpness, not this time. He deserved some of the kindness that Harry was forever flinging away on those who did not deserve it. “Would you have me spare her this? The mildest punishment that is sure to hold her until we can decide what to do with her?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked up at him. “No,” he said. “I know that you did what you had to. But I’ve suffered nightmares myself, and I just—I just can’t look at anyone suffering from them and not feel that they don’t deserve them.”

Severus calmed a little himself at the sight of Harry’s distress. He had to remember that Harry didn’t know what he’d suffered from these last few months, either—had no idea of the dark visions that had plagued Severus as he thought of Harry inevitably dying at the Dark Lord’s hands. This was the time to make peace.

“She put me under a fear spell,” Severus said. “It corrupted my rational faculties and made me unable to confess my emotions to anyone else, for fear that they would scorn me. And of course, with my past and my pride, it was very easy for her to convince me of that.”

“And so that was why you didn’t come talk to me, and that’s why you’ve been acting like you have,” said Harry, as if he were talking to himself. He straightened his shoulders a moment later. “I’m glad that you’re free of it now, sir,” he said. Then his eyes narrowed. “You are free of it, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Severus took a moment to scan his own mind, just to be certain, but nodded in satisfaction when he could find no more greasy tatters of the spell. “Draco helped me rid myself of it.” He nodded to Draco in approbation. “I had no idea that you were so proficient in Occlumency and Legilimency, Draco.”

Draco nodded back instead of displaying the false pride and stammering modesty that Harry would have. “I have to know it, to make tutoring Harry possible,” he said.

Harry smiled as if he appreciated the jibe, and then stepped up next to Draco. The glances they exchanged told Severus more than he wished to know about the turn his students’ lives had taken whilst he was under the spell and unable to notice it. He felt a little ill, but he pushed aside the reaction. If this was what both Harry and Draco needed to be happy—if this would give Harry a reason to survive and Draco no reason to regret turning against his father—then surely he could not begrudge them what they felt.

“In the meantime,” Severus said, and wished he didn’t sound quite as much as if he were trying to convince himself, “we must take Bellatrix back to Hogwarts.” He grimaced. “Quite obviously she was the one who enchanted the package that you received, Narcissa, which bore the touch of Dark magic—”

“She did not,” Narcissa said decisively. She had been so silent in the past few minutes, and had spoken to him so little—that he remembered—for the past few months, that Severus started. He had forgotten she could be forceful when she wanted something. “I would have recognized the taint of my sister’s magic. It is hard for blood relatives to hide from each other. Besides, I strengthened the wards placed around my rooms the moment I heard of Bellatrix’s escape from Azkaban, and I brought the knowledge of those wards with me to Hogwarts.”

Severus frowned, baffled. He had been sure that Bellatrix had managed to reach Narcissa if she had managed to reach him.

But then he remembered something he had almost forgotten: his Dark Mark burning the night he had received the vision of his mother. Yes, it was possible Bellatrix had reached him through that.

And she could have commanded me to do any number of things, Severus thought, with a grimace at the woman kneeling next to him and groping her way in front of her as though through a thick mist.

“Then perhaps I—”

“I moved Draco to rooms in Ravenclaw Tower because I was concerned about your erratic behavior.” Narcissa arched an eyebrow. “I would also have recognized your magic. Indeed, I rather expected it at first.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Draco broke in impatiently. “That was the information I found out and came to tell you in the first place. Finnigan is related to Lestrange. She must have forced him to get the package past the wards.”

“But Professor Snape took away the fear spell on him,” said Harry, his voice full of stubbornness.

Gryffindors, loyal to a fault, Severus thought, but it was only an idle thought to occupy the surface of his mind whilst the underlayers sped towards a conclusion. When he reached it, he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I never freed Finnigan from a fear spell,” he said.

Harry turned to face him, hands clenched into fists as if he thought that Severus might mean to betray him again. “Yes, you did,” he said. “You told us you did, and his symptoms were consistent with fear spells—”

“They were not,” Severus said shortly. He chided himself for not realizing this earlier, but then, under Bellatrix’s control, he would have been lucky to have a moment of clear thought to realize it. “I did not find the same patches of drifting terror in his mind that I encountered in my own.”

“But the shaking in his hands was—”

“The shaking in his hands could have been faked,” Draco interrupted this time, which made Harry toss him an irritated look. Draco didn’t take notice, which, Severus thought, was as it should be. “Especially if he was working with Bellatrix or the Dark Lord at the time. They gave us symptoms of what we expected to see, and we went along with them and thought exactly what they expected us to think.” He made a soft disgusted noise and shook his head. “I thought it was too simple when we ‘freed’ Finnigan.”

“But then what did he suffer under?” Harry snapped, not sounding willing to let the argument go. “You can’t tell me that it was part of Voldemort’s plans to have him attack me openly like that. He should have either killed me right away, or waited until there was a better time to do it.”

“He suffered from nightmares,” said Draco, thinking aloud. “Inability to control his actions. Extreme emotions, but maybe that was him fighting back against whatever the Dark Lord had done and getting desperate.” Harry relaxed a little as he spoke that last sentence, and Severus muffled his snort. Yes, Draco had learned well how to handle Harry.

“There was evidence of some kind of mental tampering in his mind,” Severus admitted. “Some of it could have been feigned to convince me that he had been under the fear spells, but I believe some of it real. It looked as though many wounds had been opened at one time and then clumsily allowed to heal.”

“Voldemort possessed him,” Harry whispered.

Draco moved closer to his mother, as though the mere speaking of the words aloud threatened her. Severus turned to face Harry, whose face was as pale as the moonlight. “You don’t know that, Harry,” he said gently. He thought the contention might actually be right, but the evidence was scant, and he didn’t want Harry erupting into another of his misguided bursts of pity for Finnigan.

“I think he did,” said Harry. “I had nightmares. I remember fighting in desperation against Voldemort’s control. And there were wounds in my mind. Still are.” He wrapped his arms around himself.

Draco stepped towards him, but Severus was faster. Harry stiffened as Severus embraced him, but didn’t reject it, which made Severus glad that he had risked the motion. “It could still have been Bellatrix controlling him, and not the Dark Lord,” he said. “There are spells that will allow pure-bloods to control those who share blood descent with them, no matter how distant. And certainly the Dark Lord would have made sure to learn them, so that he might control any wizarding relatives of his that remained.”

Harry met his eyes. “But Bellatrix married into the Lestranges, she wasn’t born into them.”

Severus paused. “It does not matter,” he said, with a shrug. “Her husband could have taught them to her.”

“But for her to use them, it would have meant that he had to share her blood, right?” Harry shook his head, his eyes shut and his face sick. “No, I think that Voldemort has been possessing him all along. He knew the powerful Dark magic that destroyed my Invisibility Cloak. And he was frantic when he found out I spoke Parseltongue. I thought it was strange that Seamus hated Parselmouths so much, when he wouldn’t have known his mother’s relative. But what if he was really expressing Voldemort’s fear that another Parselmouth existed, someone who could challenge him?”

“You’re wrong,” Draco said, his voice shattering in its impact and loudness. “You must be wrong. The Dark Lord was in spirit form during our second year. He couldn’t have possessed Finnigan.”

“He’s not the only kind of spirit that could have done possession.” Harry massaged his forehead over his scar, as if it hurt. “What if Seamus was in contact with a Horcrux?”

And then Severus did feel like cursing himself for a fool.

*

“But where could he have got one?” Draco was insisting, as they took Bellatrix back to the school. Neither he nor Professor Snape had wanted to take Bellatrix to Dumbledore, but Harry had pointed out that they sort of had to. Dumbledore would probably have seen Snape and Harry running out, at least, and he would want an explanation for that. And he would feel Bellatrix’s passage through the wards, too, which ruled out trying to hide her inside the school. “We don’t even know where the Horcruxes are.”

“We know where three are,” Harry said tiredly, rubbing his scar. It didn’t hurt, but it retained a memory of pain. He was sick just thinking about Seamus being possessed by Voldemort. He was frightened for Seamus, and for his friends, who had spent years sleeping next to someone who would probably have gladly murdered them all in their beds. Seamus burning his things was bad, but it was so small compared to what could have happened. “The diary and the locket are destroyed. The stone—Dumbledore’s having difficulties with it. It’s harder to destroy, I think. And then he thinks that Nagini, Voldemort’s snake, is one. And we know I’m one.”

Draco growled under his breath, the way he usually did when Harry referred to that. Harry ignored him. Refusing to mention Voldemort’s piece of soul in him wouldn’t make that piece of soul go away.

“The other two or three—I don’t know. But you said that the Lestranges were Voldemort’s most ardent followers. What if they had the Horcrux, just like your father had the diary and the locket? And then Seamus’s mother or Seamus came in contact with it somehow.” Harry shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Maybe the Ministry gave the Finnigans the Lestrange vault when the Lestranges went to Azkaban. Stranger things have happened.”

“That is rather excellent reasoning, Harry.”

Harry started and looked over his shoulder. He had somehow managed to forget that Mrs. Malfoy and Snape were walking behind them, with Bellatrix floating between them, still trapped and scrabbling at the air. Snape was studying him with a keen eye that made him wish he could go on forgetting. He turned back to face the castle with a soft snort. “I don’t know what happened. I just think that’s what happened.”

“At some point,” Snape said, his voice so soft that Harry thought Draco and Mrs. Malfoy wouldn’t have overheard him, except that they were walking so close together, “we must address this lingering distrust you and I have.”

Except it’s not going to be right now, Harry thought, and that was good enough for him. “We have to do something about Seamus,” he said, glad to change the subject. “But if we confront him, then he’ll just run, and if we try to force Voldemort out of his body—I’m not sure we can do that, not if he’s been possessing him for years.”

“The guardian spirits of the Horcruxes should be weaker than the spirit of the Dark Lord himself,” Snape said in the strangest tone, as if he wanted to be gentle about Seamus for some reason. Harry knew that couldn’t be true. He hated Seamus. “And the link may be weaker than the special link that your scar creates.”

“I hope so,” said Harry, and then turned determinedly back to the school. They were almost to the entrance now, and luckily it was late enough that most of the students would be in their common rooms. He turned and cast a Disillusionment Charm at Bellatrix just in case, though. “For now, we have to go to Dumbledore. Maybe he’ll even have some ideas about how to handle Seamus.”

Snape’s snort said that he doubted it, but he didn’t protest. No one had protested for the last little while, Harry realized. Maybe they were all too tired to do it.

Or maybe his arguments about going to Dumbledore made sense, and they trusted him.

Harry made an uncomfortable shrugging motion as they arrived at the gargoyle and it leaped aside when Snape spoke the password. I don’t want to be in this role. I mean, maybe I’ve had to be the rescuer and the savior before, but I’ve never been a leader. I don’t want them to look at me that way.

But they both know about the prophecy now. They probably will look at me that way, whether I want them to or not.

Harry brooded in silence as they rode the moving staircase up to the office. But he straightened up when they got there and tried to put his best and most persuasive expression on his face. He would have to convince Dumbledore that it was for the best to do something about Bellatrix without sending her back to Azkaban. She would just escape again, or Voldemort would find some way to rescue her. And he had to persuade him that hitting Seamus hard wasn’t the answer, either. Seamus’s spirit was still in there, somewhere, just like Harry’s soul had been there, struggling against Voldemort’s possession. If Snape had rescued Harry instead of destroying him, they could do the same thing with Seamus.

The door opened. Harry stepped into the office.

His mouth dropped open. Dumbledore stood behind his desk, clutching a stone that Harry recognized at once as the stone that had been in the Slytherin ring—the third Horcrux. His eyes were fixed wistfully on a shimmer in the air in front of him, which looked like a little girl with a bright face and hopeful smile. She had one hand extended to touch him.

That could be the guardian spirit of the Horcrux! What is he doing? Harry drew his wand without thought and yelled, “Accio stone!”

The stone leaped out of Dumbledore’s hands and into Harry’s. The little girl vanished. Dumbledore spun around, his mouth wide in astonishment.

When he saw Harry, with Draco and Snape crowding in behind him, and Narcissa and Bellatrix after that, he sighed and stretched out a hand. His voice was calm, but it would have been more convincing if his hand hadn’t trembled. “Harry, listen to me, my dear boy. It isn’t what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry backed away from Dumbledore until he felt Draco standing behind him, his eyes fixed on the Headmaster’s face. The stone burned him with the same taint of oil and blood as ever, and now his scar really ached. There was no temptation to surrender to the guardian spirit of the Horcrux, luckily. “This is the real reason that you didn’t want to destroy the stone, isn’t it, sir? Because the spirit had got to you and was using you somehow.” He spat the last words, trying to ignore the overpowering sense of betrayal he felt. He was ready to excuse Seamus falling to the guardian spirit. Why not Dumbledore?

Because Dumbledore is older and wiser, and he knows this is a Horcrux, the thought came back at once. He should have realized what was happening and torn himself away from it, no matter what the cost.

“The stone is not just a stone, Harry,” Dumbledore said. He began to move around the desk, but Harry bristled and, from the movements Harry could sense out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore was at once the target of three wands, so he stopped. He still spoke with clarity and emphasis, though, and he still stared into Harry’s eyes as if he thought that could convince him. “It is the Resurrection Stone, one of the three Deathly Hallows.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Harry said. He clutched the stone closer to him, though it was starting to burn against his palm, too, like a brand. “I think you’re just making up plausible lies to get me to believe you, like Seamus.”

Dumbledore looked startled. “I believed young Master Finnigan was cured. What has he done now?”

“Do not let him distract you,” Snape breathed into Harry’s ear.

“This isn’t about Seamus,” Harry said, with a short nod for Snape’s advice, though he had already figured that much out for himself. “This is about you. What does the Resurrection Stone do, if this is really it?” He rubbed his finger over the stone. The burning grew fiercer, and Harry held his hand still with a grimace. But he would rather burn all the skin on his palm off than let Dumbledore get hold of it again.

“The Deathly Hallows are powerful magical objects,” Dumbledore said, in a voice that Harry recognized as meant to be low and soothing. Well, he can speak like that all he wants, that doesn’t mean it’ll work. “Supposedly, they were given by Death to a trio of brothers. The Elder Wand was one of them, the most powerful wand in the world—but every master of it dies when someone else tries to take it away. The third gift was a powerful Invisibility Cloak that did not decay or ravel away like most of them do after a short time. I have come to believe that your particular Invisibility Cloak was this one, Harry, and that is why it took such a powerful Dark spell to destroy it.”

“The Resurrection Stone,” Harry said. He spoke through gritted teeth now; the stone was sending violent jolts of pain up his arm. Snape reached down as if he wanted to take it away from him, but Harry shifted sideways impatiently. Who knew what a bit of Voldemort’s soul could do to someone who had the Dark Mark? “Get to that.”

“It brings back the spirits of the dead.” Dumbledore’s eyes were bright and haunted, yearning. “It allows one to talk to them. I swear, Harry, I was only speaking to the spirit of my sister, who died on my watch, and who is the reason that I have so rarely dared to exercise my power in the past.” He held up a hand that made Harry tense, but he only pressed it to his heart. “That is all I was doing.”

Harry stared at him for a moment. Dumbledore, it seemed, hadn’t been lying. If these Hallows really existed—and neither Draco nor Snape had said anything to contradict it—then it would take a more powerful spell to destroy the stone than it had to destroy the locket.

But Harry could see the way Dumbledore went on staring at the stone, even though it was folded in Harry’s fingers and he couldn’t see it, and he began to doubt whether Dumbledore would really allow him to get away with destroying it.

“I still think you shouldn’t have it,” Harry said, trying to control his breathing. “I’ll keep it now. I won’t be tempted to call back the spirits of my dead, since I didn’t really know my parents, and—” He cut off what he had been about to say. Yes, he felt as if he had friends dear enough now that the loss of his parents didn’t cut quite so deep, but that was none of Dumbledore’s business. “And I don’t know how it works,” he finished.

“Harry.” Dumbledore’s voice was so quiet that Harry had to strain his ears to hear him. “You don’t know what the stone does for me. You don’t know what it means to me, to speak to Ariana again and know that she doesn’t blame me for her death.” His eyes were enormous, and he inched forwards one step and then another. Harry watched him warily. “You can’t—I can’t let you destroy the stone.”

I was right, but I was wrong about the reason. Harry tightened his grip on the stone again and shook his head, but he tried to keep his voice as soothing as Dumbledore’s had been a little while ago. “If I take the stone with me, sir, that should give you a chance to recover and think about what you’re saying. Voldemort probably made this stone a Horcrux because he knew that anyone who realized what it was wouldn’t want to destroy it. It was an extra level of protection. But I won’t be tempted the way you be. I can—”

Dumbledore’s wand moved.

But Snape and Draco and Narcissa had all moved at the same time. Snape conjured a shimmering shield in front of Harry that looked like a rainbow spreading in an oil slick, and whatever spell Dumbledore had hurled at him rebounded from it. Narcissa conjured a web like the one Bellatrix had used and caught Dumbledore’s arm with it, spinning him around and making his aim falter.

And Draco screamed, “Expelliarmus!” and Dumbledore’s wand soared from his hand to Draco’s own.

Harry stood there in shock for a few minutes when it was over, his heart thundering in his ears. Then he swallowed and began to back up. Draco stepped up beside him, shaking all over and clutching Dumbledore’s wand as if it were a talisman.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done.” Dumbledore was still trying to make his face normal, but desperation and despair leaked in around the edges of his expression. And maybe some rage, too, Harry thought. He’d got very good at recognizing rage when he was still around Uncle Vernon. “Harry—you must give me back my wand, and you must give me back the stone. I will give you an Unbreakable Vow that I am not under Voldemort’s influence, and the Vow would ensure that I died before I surrendered to him. But I must have my wand, to keep—to use in the war, and I must use the stone one more time.”

“No,” Harry said. His tongue was thick in his mouth and his heart heavy with sorrow, but he forced his tongue to move anyway and say what had to be said. “No. The stone is too great a temptation to you. And the wand—I’m sorry, but I think Draco did the right thing.”

“Too bloody right I did,” Draco said in a low voice.

“You cannot stay in the school and keep my wand from me,” said Dumbledore, his eyes darkening. Still, he didn’t make a threatening motion. Harry thought he still really wanted to persuade them to hand the wand and the Horcrux back over. “You know that.”

Narcissa laughed. Dumbledore’s gaze shifted to her, and his eyes narrowed. “I will revoke my protection of Mrs. Malfoy if you do not give me the stone back, Harry,” he said, “and I won’t care about the consequences.”

A great blast of calm blew into Harry. No one else would do this, so he had to. That was as simple as it got.

“You keep threatening that, sir,” he said. “And you say that you won’t fall under Voldemort’s influence, but I can feel it in this stone.” He winced absently, because his arm was throbbing now. Good thing those years of starvation left me with a high pain threshold. “It’ll snare you in the end.”

“You can’t know that.” Dumbledore took another cautious step forwards, and now he wasn’t even pretending to look at Harry. He was searching hungrily for the stone with his eyes.

“But I fear it,” Harry said, and half-turned so that he was speaking to Snape and Draco and Narcissa as well as Dumbledore. “And I think the wisest thing, given the danger that you’ll try to take the stone from me by force or tear it away by magic or wits, is for us to leave the school.”

Another cool rush of resolution touched him the moment he spoke the words. Yes, this was the right decision. How were they supposed to kill Nagini or search for the other two Horcruxes if they were in school all the time? And he didn’t want to become a sitting target for Voldemort, especially the way he would once Voldemort figured out what had happened to Bellatrix. And the fewer people he managed to endanger with his presence, the better.

Moving around. Free. That’s what I’ve wanted to do for the past year, and I was getting more and more bored with the things they were teaching me that didn’t have anything to do with defeating Voldemort. I only really paid attention in my Occlumency lessons with Draco and my dueling lessons with Snape.

“You cannot be serious.” Dumbledore’s voice was so soft that Harry knew he must have really surprised him.

“I can’t trust you, sir,” Harry said, with real regret. The shock on Dumbledore’s face said that at least part of him was still trying to do good, and that he would probably have struggled against his fascination with the stone if they had stayed. But Harry had assumed that Dumbledore had changed and was making a real effort before, and all the time he had been lying to Harry about the nature of the Resurrection Stone. “You’re always trying to get around my actions, and you think threats against people I’ve sworn to protect are the way to get me to cooperate. It’s best if we just go.”

“There is no stronghold as safe against Voldemort as Hogwarts.” Dumbledore spoke earnestly, but Harry counted the seconds, and he only managed to look at Harry’s face for a count of five before his eyes flickered back towards the stone. “And Professor Snape is a marked Death Eater, and Draco and Mrs. Malfoy have Lucius hunting for them. Harry—this is madness. You need safety. You need protection.”

Harry smiled sadly and flicked his fringe away from his forehead with his free hand. “Even if I consented to stay,” he said softly, “there’s still the problem of my own scar and what it means. Voldemort would come for me sooner or later. Yeah, I need protection, but I think Professor Snape and Draco and Mrs. Malfoy can provide that.” He hesitated, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t asked them. “If they’ll go with me.”

Snape’s hand clenched down on his shoulder. Harry heard the rustling of Mrs. Malfoy’s gown as she moved closer to his back. Hardly daring to risk it, he glanced sideways at Draco.

“You really are an idiot,” said Draco, with admirable calm, although his cheeks were flushed, “if you think that I’m going to let you go.”

“What about your friends?” Dumbledore insisted. “What about Sirius? He can’t visit you safely anywhere but Hogwarts.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Harry shifted so that Draco was at his back this time, because Dumbledore had moved around the desk whilst he was distracted. “I’ll manage everything, sir. Just stay here and get a new wand and be the Headmaster that Hogwarts needs you to be.”

“The library, Harry,” Dumbledore said, his desperation showing this time in the way his words rushed along. “The research you need, and the spells you have to learn. Everything is here.”

“I’m going to be sorry to leave,” Harry said. But not nearly as sorry as I would have been a year ago, when I thought there was still some chance I could trust you and when I wouldn’t have thought Snape would come with me. “But this is the way it has to be.”

“I don’t want to lose this war,” Dumbledore said, speaking quietly but forcefully, as if he imagined that would catch and keep Harry’s attention when nothing had worked so far. “Harry…I am sorry.”

Harry had been expecting it from the beginning, really, so he wasn’t surprised when Dumbledore touched something in his desk and lines of light began to cross from silver instrument to silver instrument, forming a cage of light. It seemed as though everyone was thinking of imprisoning him in cages or webs today.

Snape barked out two short, sharp words that seemed to hurt his mouth, and certainly hurt Harry’s ears. He thought they were Dark Arts that Snape hadn’t trusted him to learn yet. The cage of light turned yellow, withered, and died before it got properly formed. For a moment, they were surrounded by what looked like falling leaves of ancient parchment.

“That’s it,” Harry said, though his throat felt cramped and the corners of his eyes were stinging. “We’re going.”

He backed carefully out the office door, leaving Snape and Mrs. Malfoy to face down Dumbledore. Draco was at his side, his eyes blazing like stars.

As they got onto the moving staircase, Harry looked sideways at him and whispered, “Do you regret this?”

Draco abruptly pushed him backwards, holding him against the twisting wall as he kissed Harry, his tongue and teeth scraping Harry’s mouth. Harry opened to him with a gasp, raising his free hand so that he could cradle the back of Draco’s head.

“Tell me,” Draco whispered then, his voice so soft that Harry could barely hear it under the gallop of his heart. “Do I taste like I regret it?” He took Harry’s hand out of his hair and brought it down to touch the distinct bulge at his groin. “Or feel it?”

And Harry had to smile.

*

I knew a time would come when I would break with Albus. I did not imagine it would be like this.

And Severus understood, as he looked at his old mentor, why Harry had questioned him so extensively and listened to him so patiently. The thought of parting with Dumbledore, and giving up the access to strength and wisdom that the Headmaster’s presence had always meant, was wrenching.

But it had to be done.

“If you are wise,” Severus told him, keeping his words as calm and simple as he could, “you will not try to contact the boy again, or to imprison him.” He backed out of the room with his eyes on Dumbledore’s face, floating Bellatrix away to the side and with them. But the Headmaster didn’t make a move. He simply stood still, shaking his head and frowning, as if he could not believe how soon it had all gone wrong.

Narcissa followed Severus, her expression pale and serene in the gloom of the moving staircase. Severus cast a few spells that would warn him if Dumbledore tried to make the walls close in on them or any other feeble trick, and then studied her from the corner of his eye. She caught him doing it and faced him full on.

“You don’t mind coming with us?” he had to ask. “You have more to lose than anyone else if we leave the walls of Hogwarts.”

“I know that,” said Narcissa. “And where my son and the man who swore to give my protection go, there I will accompany them.”

Severus was about to answer, but the staircase brought them around a corner then and in sight of—something he did not want to witness. He jerked his eyes away and determined to teach Draco how to cast more powerful privacy spells as soon as possible.

Or perhaps simply the discretion to wait for the right time and place.

But the disgust could not hide the way his hands shook or, he knew, the flush of excitement and adrenaline in his cheeks.

He was going to war at last.

Chapter 26.