Flight

Phoenix Tears, Chapter Twenty-One : Flight

DISCLAIMER : The characters and many of the situations described in this story are the property of the incomparable J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute. Dialogue marked with an asterisk is quoted from the original HP stories.

This chapter is for LAxo and WriterMerrin who have been here holding my hand since the start!

Severus hadn't bothered to explain to his Death Eater colleagues that there was almost no hope that Harry Potter would register on the castle wards. Potter would appear to the school as a thoroughly benign presence; his motivations aligned precisely with Hogwarts' conception of the Greater Good. Dumbledore had run up against the same issue when Sirius Black had attempted to break in, several years earlier.

Thus, once he'd sent them on their way, he set to patrolling the hallways, his senses on high alert, as he racked his brain as to the possible modes of entry Potter might discover.

Potter, he reasoned, has stolen something important. Something worth breaking into Gringotts to obtain. Because of the magnitude of risk, there was only one real possibility: a Horcrux.

Severus stepped out the front doors of the school and squinted out through the darkness at the Whomping Willow. Would Potter know that tunnel had been effectively blocked? Or would he try there regardless? He'd certainly used that tunnel a number of times in the past. Just to be on the safe side, Severus decided to dismantle the curses that blocked the entrance. He strode purposely across the grounds towards the old tree.

Assuming Potter succeeded at destroying the Gringotts Horcrux...and the Dark Lord's anger indicates that he did...then his anticipated presence at Hogwarts suggest that a further Horcrux is located in the school.

No, realised Severus suddenly, the force of his flash of logic bringing him to an unexpected stop. The Dark Lord expects him here, which means that a Horcrux is here, it doesn't necessarily mean that Potter knows where it can be found.

After a second of indecision, Severus sprinted forwards towards the Whomping Willow. Since he'd set the complicated trap wards himself, it took only a couple of minutes of sustained unravelling to clear the passage. Then he spun on his heel and leapt into the air. He flew back to the Great Doors, revelling in the speed he could manage and the feeling of flying without a broom.

Once inside, he ran back to his office.

"Phineas!" he called as he bounded up the last of the moving stairs and flung open the door.

"No need to shout, Severus, I'm right here."

"I need you to take a message," continued Severus, ignoring the portrait's snide response.

"Funny, that's what she said," replied Phineas, frowning down at his nail. With a moue of distaste, he withdrew a nail file and started shaping the nails on his left hand.

"What? What did she say?"

"She said,"...Phineas paused and rolled his eyes skywards, then he continued his tale in the singsong falsetto of a poor imitation..."'Please tell Headmaster Snape to keep an eye out for intruders'."

Intruders. So they knew after all. They were on their way.

"Oh," added Phineas, "and she wanted you to have some antivenom handy."

That was not a problem. These days, Severus Snape always had antivenom handy.

"Phineas," he said finally, "this is important. I need you to go back to your other portrait. If you get a chance to talk to her again, make sure you tell her that the passageway through to the Shrieking Shack is clear. And tell her that unless she knows of someplace better, the Ravenclaw common room might be a good place to start."

Phineas sighed dramatically. "That's a ridiculous message, you know?"

"Phineas, just do it. Now."

With another sigh, he was gone. Severus took a deep breath. Ignoring the questions that poured from a dozen different portraits...Albus' included...he took the staircase up to his private chambers. From a small cupboard next to the couch, he pulled out a handful of potions. Sorting through them rapidly, he tucked a couple of phials of antivenom, one of Blood-Replenishing Potion, and, after a moment of hesitation, a Strengthening Solution into the inner breast pocket of his robes. It never hurt to be prepared.

The next thing he needed to do was remove the Carrows from the Ravenclaw common room. He tore back down the stairs, through his office...paying no attention to the various portraits clamouring for his attention...and out into the Hogwarts corridors.

When Severus felt his Dark Mark activate, he quickened his pace. Yet he was still several floors from Ravenclaw tower when he spotted Minerva McGonagall stalking back towards him, a fierce expression on her face. Instinctively, he stepped sideways, into the shadow of a doorway. When she strode past, he noticed something more: he saw one (angry) woman, he heard three sets of footsteps.

Potter, he realised. Under his wrapper.

He couldn't help the uncomfortable leap of his heart at the realisation that Granger might be third member of the group. Stealthily, he began to trail them, ducking from one hiding spot to another. Within moments, however, he was noticed.

"Who's there?"* asked Minerva warily. Her wand was raised into a duelling position.

"It is I,"* he replied, stepping out from behind a suit of armour. He held his own wand at the ready. Minerva froze. Severus raked the air around her, searching for some scrap of movement, some indication of Potter's location. When Minerva did and said nothing, he asked her a question. "Where are the Carrows?"*

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus,"* replied Minerva. She spat his name as if it were poison.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder,"* he continued, his eyes still searched for some sign of Potter.

"Really?"* sneered Minerva. "And what gave you that impression?"*

Involuntarily, Severus clenched his left hand, and his arm flexed slightly. Minerva's sneer deepened at his response.

"Oh, but naturally,"* she exclaimed. "You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication. I forgot."*

The days when Minerva had reassured him that, in his case, the title no longer applied, were long gone. Severus pushed the pain of her taunt deep into one of the library books of his brain. He took a step towards her.

"I didn't know that it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva."*

"You have some objections?"*

"I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?"*

They were conversing in questions. It was irritating.

"I thought I heard a disturbance,"* replied Minerva, breaking the stalemate at last.

"Really?"* he replied. "But all seems so calm."* Stepping closer once more, Severus gave up his attempt to find Potter by sight and decided to try other means. Looking directly into Minerva's eyes, he pushed forward against her shields. "Have you seen Harry Potter, Minerva?"* he asked. Minerva was no Occlumens, but the sheer force and rigidity of her personality gave her some defences. "Because if you have,"* he continued, "I must insist..."*

Severus broke off as she struck out, conjuring his Shield Charm only just in time to protect himself. The force of it unbalanced Minerva, but she recovered quickly and sent the closest torch flying from its wall bracket. The flames stretched and curled like a giant rope, looping into a lasso and attempting to encircle him.

The next few moves unfurled with textbook precision: Severus transformed the fire into a snake, which Minerva vaporised and sent back towards him as a cloud of daggers. Rather than spinning them back towards her, Potter, and his unknown companion, Severus levitated the suit of armour into their path. They sunk into the metal with sharp ringing noises.

"Minerva!"* shouted Filius unexpectedly in the distance. Severus glanced up to see the diminutive Charms professor sprinting towards him, with Pomona and Horace in hot pursuit.

Time for Plan B, he decided.

"No!"* shrieked Filius as he ran. "You'll do no more murder at Hogwarts!"*

Funny that Minerva's plight has moved him to action, when that of his students didn't, noted Severus bitterly as he struggled to free himself from the grip of the suit of armour. Filius had hit it with some spell that caused it to hold him fast. A non-verbal Repulsion Jinx did the trick, sending the clanking lengths of metal back across the hallway in the direction of his attackers.

Severus Snape turned and ran, his black robes billowing out behind him. He skidded around a corner into the nearest classroom and ran for the window. With his wand, he blew the glass from the frame, and without slowing his steps, leapt for the opening.

The air caught him like a soft pillow, and he squinted his eyes into the wind and soared upward. In the distance, he heard Minerva shouting after him.

"Coward!"* she shrieked. "COWARD!"*

Gryffindors always say that when it's four to one, he comforted himself. It wasn't much help.

By chance, Severus' flight took him towards the Forbidden Forest, and he continued in that direction in order to minimise the time before he hit the perimeter of the anti-Apparation wards. Since he was still the headmaster of Hogwarts, he was able to modify the wards in order to let him through without slowing down.

Once beyond the boundary, he began to look for a place to land. Odd shapes were moving in the forest. They were so large that it took a moment for Severus to process what he was seeing. Only when he realised he was looking at giants did he understand how close to the end they were: Voldemort was gearing up for battle. This was war.

Soaring above the hordes of gathering monsters, Severus soon located the spot where the Death Eaters were situated and came to land. Voldemort himself, it turned out, had only just arrived. Furthermore, he had brought his snake with him...and she was wrapped in a sparkling, shimmering case, protected from external threat by the Dark Lord's extraordinary magic.

"If there comes a time"...Dumbledore's words echoed in his mind..."when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry . . ."*

With his Occlumency shields firmly in place, Severus reported to the Dark Lord, passing on the information that Potter had arrived and that the teachers of the school were preparing for battle. The Dark Lord seemed unfazed that news of his arrival had preceded him.

"I want you close at hand, Severus," he remarked in closing. "Don't stray too far."

Waiting on the sidelines while the Dark Lord sent Death Eaters and monsters to attack his students and his friends was almost more than Severus could bear. He paced back and forth along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, waging an irresolvable argument with himself.

Time and time again, Severus had promised Albus he would maintain his cover...no matter the cost. Yet he'd also promised to inform Potter of the awful legacy carried within his body.

For the first time in a long time, Severus didn't know what to do.

Was this worth throwing his position as Voldemort's favoured minion? Or could he somehow find Potter, give him the news, and yet still carry on as double agent?

It wasn't as if he could protect the students any longer, and yet, as long as Voldemort lurked in the forest, the need to inform Potter was pressing but not yet urgent. Perhaps he still had time. As long as he stuck with Voldemort, he could intervene in the Dark Lord's inevitable showdown with the young boy. He could reveal the crucial information in front of several witnesses...no-one would be able to doubt the validity of his statement, Voldemort himself would count it a triumph. Severus could keep both promises at once.

Yet the noises of the distant battle provided horrific imagery to Severus' overactive imagination. What if Potter were accidentally killed by somebody else? Severus reached the end of his eastward trajectory, spun on his heel, and headed back the other way.

It was there that Lucius found him.

The last few years had not been kind to Lucius Malfoy, and the last weeks had been the worst of the lot. His face was drawn with tiredness and concern, and the bruises that marked the Dark Lord's most recent bout of displeasure were clearly visible.

"Severus!" he called as he stepped out from under the trees.

"Lucius," replied Severus curtly.

"Our Lord requires your presence. You will find him in the Shrieking Shack."

"Very well." For a moment, neither man spoke. Both stood still, staring out at the distant castle, which flared with a constant, multicoloured sparkle of various spells.

"You...you didn't happen to see Draco, did you?"

"Earlier this evening, when I received your letter, he was alive and well. But I know nothing further."

"And Jocelyn?"

"Jocelyn is safe." Severus spoke with conviction.

"How can you sound so certain?"

Severus turned towards the tired man who had once been such a close friend. "Because I sent her away; I Portkeyed her to safety."

Lucius let out a sharp breath. "Thank you, Severus. You have always been good to my family."

Severus gave the school a last glance. "I should go," he replied. He placed a hand on Lucius' shoulder in a gesture that was both farewell and intended to comfort. Then he walked away through the trees.

Severus hated the Shrieking Shack. The dilapidated exterior was depressing, but the brutally damaged interior was an inescapable testament to the horror that his younger self had but barely escaped. Even years afterwards, Severus imagined that his sensitive nostrils caught the sickly taint of feral dog.

Standing before Voldemort, he pulled his robes tightly around his body, unwilling to dirty them with the dust and detritus of this particular place. He did his best to convince the Dark Lord to let him go.

" . . . my Lord," he begged, "their resistance is crumbling..."*

"...and it is doing so without your help. Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make a difference now. We are almost there . . . almost."*

"Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please."*

Snape found himself pacing again as he had outside; the repetitive movement was the only release he could allow himself for the crushing anxiety he felt.

"I have a problem, Severus,"* remarked Voldemort conversationally. He had his...no Dumbledore's...wand out and was tapping it against the curve of his serpentine cheek, as if in thought.

"My Lord?"*

"Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"*

Severus' heart was pounding loudly in his chest. Surely not? Not now that the end is in sight? He cannot mean to kill me now...not before I manage to pass on the information to Potter?

"My...my Lord?"* he managed, keeping his face blank and his voice flat and neutral. "I do not understand. You...you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."*

"No."* Voldemort contradicted him directly. "I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand . . . no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised." The Dark Lord stroked his chin, holding out the wand now in one hand to contemplate it from a distance. "I feel no difference between this wand," he continued, "and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago. No difference."*

Severus swallowed, hard. There was nothing he could say. Has he realised? he wondered. Did he call me here to kill me, or to ask my advice? Instinct told him that the first guess was the more likely. At least that meant Draco was safe.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus. . . . Do you know why I have kept you back from the battle?"*

Yes.

Severus stared at Nagini. Her body coiled in and over itself as she wriggled in her enchanted bauble. "If there comes a time . . ."*

"No, my Lord," he responded finally. Obedient to his master even unto death, he tried once more. "But I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."*

"You sound like Lucius,"* snapped Voldemort dismissively. "Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."*

"But my Lord,"* Severus protested, "he might be killed accidentally by one other than yourself..."*

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends...the more, the better...but do not kill him."* Voldemort broke off for a moment. His unconcern for the lives of innocent citizens chilled Severus to the bone. "But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."*

The words struck dread into Severus' heart, and once again, he heard Dumbledore's words: ". . . when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding . . ."*

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him," he babbled. "But...let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can..."*

"I have told you, no!"* snarled Voldemort, spinning on his heel. "My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"*

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely...?"*

"...but there is a question, Severus. There is."*

How ridiculous. For the first and only time this evening, I have told him the full, unmitigated truth. And he refuses to believe me, thinking that I respond out of servility. That knowledge left Severus tongue tied. How to frame the truth as convincingly as his typical lies?

Voldemort rolled the thin length of the Elder wand around between his spindly fingers.

"Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"* he demanded.

"I...I cannot answer that, my Lord."* Severus felt overwhelmed by despair.

"Can't you?" There was a long pregnant pause. "My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."*

Severus had his eyes fixed on the twisting, tumbling Snake.

". . . but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection . . ."*

"I...I have no explanation, my Lord."* The taste of failure lay heavy on Severus' tongue.

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."*

". . . then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry."*

"My Lord..."* Severus turned his eyes beseechingly on the face of the Dark Lord. He tried to let his faith that Voldemort could, should, indeed must kill the boy shine from his eyes. "...let me go to the boy..."*

"All this long night,"* continued Voldemort, oblivious to Severus' distress, "when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner . . . and I think I have the answer."*

So close, and yet I have failed.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."*

The snake, please. Please, if it has to happen, let it be the snake. Severus imagined the antivenom swimming through his bloodstream.

"My Lord..."* he stammered, cursing the tremor in his voice.

Perhaps Albus' portrait would deliver the message to Potter? But would it know it needed to? Could Albus bring himself to switch tactics and allow himself to become the bearer of bad news?

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."*

"My Lord!"* Automatically, Severus raised his wand.

"It cannot be any other way,"* replied Voldemort, a twinge of regret twisting his voice. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."*

As the Dark Lord slashed his wand through the air, true terror gripped at Severus. His own wand jerked higher in an ingrained pattern of self-defence, though when Nagini's cage began to move towards him, the words of his Shield Charm died on his lips.

An exultant joy blossomed in his chest, so strong that he couldn't manage to keep the relief from his face. He chose the snake!

His joy was short lived, however, for the snake struck, ripping into the flesh of his neck and pumping his body full of searing pain. Severus' eyes rolled back into his head, and he heard his own voice shouting in the distance. Not even Crucio felt like this.

Pain tore at his throat and down through his abdomen. It leaked through his veins and seared into his vision. Like a red haze, it pushed at the edges of his consciousness. Without being aware of it, Severus had fallen to the floor. His hands clutched ineffectually at his neck, trying to stop the precious blood that was flowing out in terrifying quantities. The warmth of it as it seeped through his fingers pushed home the very real possibility of death.

Get a grip, Severus.

Severus felt the vibrations of Voldemort's departure more clearly than he heard the sounds of the Dark Lord's booted feet against the floorboards.

That's when he felt it. Where he clutched at his throat, the cool metal of Granger's Portkey was sandwiched hard against his neck.

Concentrate.

Severus was alone. All he had to do was say the trigger word and he would be whipped to safety. At Spinner's End he had more than enough medicine stashed to treat his injuries. If he did so quickly enough, he might even be able to get back and warn Potter in time. The fate of wizarding society depended on it.

Severus forced himself to take several calming breaths. The pain pushed at the corners of his vision, threatening to overwhelm him. He focussed on the ceiling.

All of a sudden, Harry Potter appeared before him; Severus wondered if he were going mad.

"Harry!" He heard Granger's voice, urgent and irritated. He had, he realised, been handed a miracle.

Severus knew what he had to do. Reaching deep inside for the strength to keep it together, he clutched at the front of Potter's robes. He tried to talk but managed only a deep gurgling noise. The sound frightened him.

Concentrating hard, Severus sought and found the bundle of memories that he'd prepared for Granger, and he exuded them from his temples. A small tendril of pride wiggled in his belly at the knowledge he could manage such a difficult feat of wandless magic, despite his blood loss and the extraordinary battle between poison and antivenom that raged within his body.

"Take . . . it. . . ." he gasped. "Take . . . it. . . ."*

Granger was there...of course...conjuring a flask and ensuring Potter collected every last tendril of memory.

Severus realised that his lack of vocal control laid bare the flaw in his plan: if he waited till the trio left, he wasn't going to be capable of triggering the Portkey; he wasn't capable of healing the hole in his neck.

At least he'd managed to pass on the message. He'd kept his promise to Albus, his promise to Lily.

"Look . . . at . . . me . . ."* he gasped.

Potter...blast the boy...seemed to think Severus still spoke to him, and he lowered his face over Severus', staring into his eyes and blocking Severus' view of the rest of the room.

Severus let go of Potter's shirt, and his hand smacked back down onto the ground. For a second, he felt warm familiar hands on his, and someone...Granger...wrapped his fingers around the slim, wooden handle of his wand.

Come on, Granger, look at me, it's important.

As Potter...finally...pulled back just enough, Granger's face appeared in Severus' field of vision. She looked terrible: singed, dirty, tired and worried; Severus had never seen anything more beautiful. Anxiety had deepened the lines that stretched from the side of her nose, past the corners of her mouth and down to her chin.

With his eyes boring into hers, he pushed forward a snippet of memory. It was one they shared: the headmaster's office swum into view, with Dumbledore ensconced behind his desk and Severus and Granger seated on the visitor's side. "Your mission," said his memory of the old man, "is to keep Harry alive."

Granger blinked, and then grimaced as she cut the memory short. He knew she had understood; she would carry on without him. Her face was fixed in a bitter expression, her mouth twisted in disappointment. She pushed herself back on her heels, ready to stand, but froze as Voldemort's high, clear voice rang through the ravaged room.

Severus watched her as she glanced around quickly, then suddenly, she was leaning over him once more, pushing into his mind. He let her in without a second thought, though he had no idea what she was looking for. She moved quickly, rifling back through his most recent memories. He caught quick flashes of his conversation with Voldemort, of the long agony of waiting and of his flight from the school. She stopped at the memory of his conversation with Phineas. She saw him receive her message and pass on one of his own, she watched him run up the staircase into his room and tuck several bottles of potion into his inner pocket. Then she withdrew.

The episode had taken only seconds, and Voldemort was still speaking. Granger ignored him.

Guided by Severus' memories, she slid her hand across his chest and into his inner pocket. Unerringly, she withdrew three bottles of liquid: one virulent green, one dark red, and the other deepest purple.

Moving with the precision he remembered from her Potions classes, Granger thumbed the cork from the first bottle and held it to his lips. She slipped one hand under his neck and tilted his head so that he could swallow without choking.

Severus saw her glance over at the boys, but they were standing, and staring, out towards the source of Voldemort's voice, and they paid no heed to Granger's careful movements. In less than thirty seconds, she had dosed him with an extra dose of anitvenom, a shot of Blood-Replenishing Potion and a much-needed Strengthening Solution. With the pad of her thumb, she wiped a drip of spilled liquid from the corner of his mouth and pushed it between his lips. Her eyes met his in a silent question, and he gave her a minuscule nod.

Severus felt the Blood-Replenishing Potion take effect and pressed harder at the wound in his neck. If only he could prevent himself from pumping the entirety of his bodily fluids out over the floor of the shack before making it back to Spinner's End, he really would be just fine. Granger's eyes were narrowed as she stared down at him; he knew she was noting the change in colour the potions had effected.

"Don't listen to him!"*

Weasley's voice intruded, and Granger leapt up and away without a backward glance.

"It'll be alright,"* added Granger urgently, "Let's...let's get back to the castle, if he's gone to the forest we'll need to think of a new plan."*

She turned back towards Severus then and gave him an eloquent look. He almost laughed; he felt giddy with relief. Hermione Granger was going to keep Potter alive, but it didn't mean she was finished with Severus Snape.

Granger hurried over to the entrance to the tunnel and gestured for her friends to follow quickly. Within moments, Severus was left alone.

Severus drew a deep, shuddering breath. One word, that was all he needed. Pulling on the resources of the Strengthening Solution, he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"Fenice," he rasped.

Severus Snape caught sight of the bright blue flash of light and felt the cold disc of metal, slippery with his blood, tug at his flesh where he held it pressed against his neck. With a jerk, he was pulled bodily from the Shrieking Shack and spun off into the darkness. He landed, with a thump, on the living room couch at Spinner's End.

A/N: I'm absolutely thrilled and delighted to announce that both this story and Phoenix Song have been nominated in the the SS/HG awards--alongside a host of other BRILLIANT stories. Thank you very, very much to everyone who is still reading for all of your support, and if anyone wishes to vote in the awards, they're now open . . . tootle on over to the sshg_awards community on LJ!