Chapter 23

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Thanks to my reviewers and beta.

Chapter 23

The Ministry of Magic could only withhold the knowledge of the Azkaban breakout from the Wizarding world for a few days before allowing the Daily Prophet to report it. The result was widespread panic, as every Death Eater captured in the battle in the Department of Mysteries was now on the loose.

The members of the Order were meeting more frequently, as were the Death Eaters judging by the number of times Severus was summoned by the 'Snake Fixated One'. Yet Voldemort remained tight-lipped concerning his plans. It was clear that a major offensive was coming close to fruition, but the exact target was unknown.

Hermione was growing increasingly concerned by her dreams. She had consulted Madam Pomfrey when visiting Ron in the hospital wing, and nothing the matron had suggested had worked. Severus had given up asking her what the nightmares were about after calming her down after her screams awoke him almost every night. Hermione was well aware that Severus's opinion of Divination matched her own, so she was very reluctant to admit to him of having dreams that she suspected were of the future. Hell, she was reluctant even to think it to herself.

With the knowledge that she would never forgive herself if her dreams turned out to be true and she told no one of her suspicions, Hermione extracted the memory of the recurring nightmare into Dumbledore's Pensieve to show him. His opinion was that it was possible that her powers left her mind open to echoes from the future, but it was also possible that the dreams were a symptom of the stress she (and the entirety of Wizarding Britain) was under.

Distracted and lacking in sleep, Hermione's schoolwork was suffering. However, this only reduced her stellar grades from Outstandings to Exceeds Expectations. She'd have to be getting 'Trolls' to bring her record down to the level of other achievers, a fact that didn't exactly make her popular amongst her classmates.

It was also rather puzzling to her that Voldemort hadn't summoned her since they'd met. While clear that his plans revolved around her, he didn't seem to be in a hurry to tell her his plans in advance. Obviously, he only trusted her so far...

Hermione had been working on a nineteen inch essay for Defence (Differences between Necromancy and the usage of Inferi, to be seen by Severus and Dumbledore's eyes only), when she absently snapped her quill, ink spilling over her hand and the parchment below her. A nasty thought had just occurred to her; what if Voldemort intended to eliminate her after he'd gotten what he wanted from her?

At some point in the upcoming inevitable confrontation between the Dark and the Light, Hermione was going to have to turn against him. What was to stop him from killing her there and then? The minute she turned against him, she'd outlive her usefulness to him. Or worse, Voldemort would threaten the lives of those she cared for. He'd already threatened Severus to force her to bring Bellatrix back...

'I can't let that happen. There must be some way to have Riddle under my thumb...' Hermione had almost reached the nearest bookcase, her hand outstretched for one of the Dark Arts volumes, when the memory of one of the last pages in The Book surfaced in her mind. It was an untested spell, based on the theory of life force leeching techniques on the pages preceding it. If it worked, it would transfer any damage from herself to Voldemort, meaning that she had only to turn her wand on herself to prevent him from attacking her loved ones. Any damage she did to herself (or was inflicted on her) would be transferred to him.

A frown crossed Hermione's face, her wand now in hand, ready to cast the spell. 'There must be a catch. This seems far too easy.' She lowered her wand. 'I'll get someone else's opinion. This isn't something to rush into, after all. Anything recorded as untested in a book like that must be dangerous.'

Severus agreed that the transference spell was their best chance, but was reluctant to let her risk using a potentially dubious and dangerous spell. He was also resigned to the fact that there was little he could do to stop her from casting the spell.

"He will realise what you are up to. You'll be dead before you finish casting the spell."

"Hardly, Severus. You-Know-Who is hardly omniscient. Do you really think he will feel the effects of a spell being cast hundreds of miles away?"

He blinked, looking a little taken aback. "You mean that the spell can be cast here and now? In that case, the Dark Lord is highly unlikely to notice. Fine. Cast it, but be very careful. There must be a reason that it is recorded as untested."

It was certainly anticlimactic. The spell was both silent and invisible with only the tell-tale tingle of magic to let Hermione know that it had been cast. She would have to test it out the next time she was in Voldemort's presence.

The Portkey ring activated for the first and only time in mid-March. Hermione had vaguely registered that it was the Ides of March at breakfast, but didn't really find the date of any note unless, of course, you were Julius Caesar. She had been walking back from visiting Hagrid on the gusty Saturday lunchtime, her cloak wrapped tightly around her as she trailed behind Harry and Ron. She had felt the subtle shift of magic radiating from her hand a split second before the Portkey activated, leaving her no time to call out to the boys.

'The wind would have stolen my words before they heard me... I hope this doesn't mean what I think it does.'

Hermione cursed the fact that she'd never really got the hang of Portkey transport as she felt the tug in her midriff and almost instantaneously landed flat on her back in front of Voldemort, who looked a little startled to see her undignified arrival. He extended a long fingered hand to help her up, his skin feeling dry and papery as she took his hand.

"It is time to bring this to an end. The unworthy will perish, leaving our world open for those who deserve to live. Even if some of the worthy do fall, you can bring them back."

"Who counts as worthy? Surely you have noticed that the obsession with purity of blood has resulted in the powerless or mental illness." Hermione looked pointedly at the silent figure of Bellatrix.

"You doubtless know that I myself am a half-blood from Harry Potter. Blood does hold less meaning than before, with you as the prime example. Mudblood though you are, you outstrip any pure-blood of your generation." Voldemort turned away from her, hands stroking his bald head as he thought further. "Fresh blood is needed, yes. We will bestow the status of pure-blood on the deserving half-blood and even the brightest Muggle-borns. If you were male, then the Granger family would be classed above the Malfoy line. As it is, I guess the name of Snape will get that position... perhaps Severus will revert to his mother's family name. Prince was a noble line before it failed."

Voldemort led the way from the Riddle house to the graveyard. "I trust that you have experienced Side-Along-Apparition? Good. I shall guide you to our destination, where I shall summon my Death Eaters... and you will earn your place of honour as my most valued ally. Oh, and that robe and Muggle clothes are hardly befitting one of your status." With a complicated wave of his wand, he transfigured her clothes into a horribly familiar set of crimson robes.

He grasped her elbow, taking her with him through the compressing sensation of Apparition. Hermione closed her eyes in her discomfort, only opening them when she felt the wind ruffling her hair. They were in another graveyard, jumbled lines of headstones littering the ground, a tangled path weaving around them. From the names on the closest graves, Hermione was able to deduce where they were before turning to double check her assumption. The Rosmerta family grave coupled with the eerie sight of the Shrieking Shack gave their position as the Hogsmeade Cemetery.

Bellatrix appeared next to Voldemort, who let go of Hermione to focus on using the undead Death Eater's Dark Mark to call the other Death Eaters to them.

'Now, while he's distracted, I'll test that transference spell.' Hermione reached into her pocket (the transfigured robes had the pockets in the same places, thankfully) and sent a few sparks flying from her wand to hit her right side, where the tip rested. She carefully controlled her expression when Voldemort jumped, a yelp escaping him as his hands flew to his side. It appeared that the spell was working perfectly, as she only felt the tingle of magic and no pain from the impact of the sparks.

"Let that be a lesson, my dear; never keep your wand in a pocket," Voldemort hissed, as he withdrew his wand, glaring at the length of wood. As luck would have it, his wand seemed to have been in the same position as her own. He bent back to his task, touching his fingers to Bellatrix's Dark Mark. "There. My followers will soon arrive, although any bearing my Mark in Hogwarts will be delayed. It is lunchtime, after all."

Even as the first Death Eaters began to arrive, an urgent thought crossed Hermione's mind. 'Severus won't know that this is it. I need to get word to him, or failing that, to Dumbledore. But how? Voldemort is hardly going to let me write an owl...'

"It is time for all proud pure-bloods to make a stand. We will attack when my Necromancer here has brought an army back to life." At Voldemort's words, many of his assembled Death Eaters gasped, flinched or shied back, widening the circle arranged around the Dark Lord and Hermione.

'Ah. I thought as much.' Hermione swallowed hard. "I found bringing Bellatrix Lestrange back from the dead tiring; I'm afraid that an undead army is unfeasible."

"I have planned extensively for this moment, Hermione. I anticipated your limitations... this should provide you with sufficient energy."

A vial of glowing golden potion was passed to her. While it resembled Felix Felicis, from Voldemort's comments it was more likely to be some sort of strengthening elixir. Ordinarily, she would have refused to take the potion before Severus had affirmed what it was... but judging by the unrecognisable heartbeats surrounding her, Severus was not there. Voldemort's fingers were running restlessly over his wand, so it was probably best not to test his patience. Hermione uncorked the vial and swallowed the contents. It felt as though she'd downed a thunderstorm as every single nerve seemed to spark before the electric jolt sank into her muscles. The vial shattered into glass dust in reaction to the energy in her fingertips. If her hair hadn't been so bushy, it would have stood on end. As it was, static electricity ran through every hair on her head.

"It is time to end this once and for all. We will attack when we have our army... Raise the dead, my Necromancer," Voldemort reiterated himself, his patience obviously flagging.

Hermione's eyes drifted shut as she extended her senses six feet under the ground to the boundaries of the graveyard. All plant life experienced a sudden burst of growth as her mental summons sank into the soil. 'Rise up...'

While the occupants of the graveyard were reluctant to respond, they had no choice but to answer her call. How soon the dead were reanimated depended on their condition, with the newly buried already surfacing. Hermione opened her eyes to see them reflected in Voldemort's satisfied gaze. Her usual brown irises resembled twin black holes, something that didn't fade as her powers were still being called upon as the ground seemed to bubble beneath them as skeletal hands clawed their way to the surface, scraps of flesh still hanging from some of them.

The air was unnaturally still for a while as the ground trembled, a rushing sensation brushing past Hermione that had nothing to do with wind, but far more with magic as sparks of electricity danced across her exposed skin. That was the last stage of the mass resurrection, bringing the souls back to the dead.

The assembled Death Eaters staggered back from the foul, rotting stench emanating from the shifting ground, stifled cries of fear arising from them as they realised that they were surrounded by the surfacing corpses. Where there was still flesh, the heads contained glassy eyes, while the bare bone of skulls contained a cold blue pinpoint of light as a pupil in the empty sockets. Given time and additional energy, Hermione would have been able to restore the assembled dead to their living appearances.

The exhalations of the living misted the air as the temperature dropped drastically, yet no ice formed on the ground. This was the affect of the undead multitude, who spoke as one in a creaking, hoarse rasp, "You called us forth, Mistress."

"I called you forth to fight in the place of the living." A quick glance at Voldemort proved Hermione's assumption right. The undead army wasn't just for decoration. It was to keep his precious Death Eaters, and himself, out of danger.

"Now, to the battlefield. By sundown we shall have brought the Wizarding world to its knees, either with the blood of their children or by holding their loved ones hostage. FORWARD!" Voldemort ordered, his rasping voice piercingly high to Hermione's ears

'Hogwarts. He's going to attack Hogwarts! Of course, why else would he want me to raise the dead in Hogsmeade? Stupid! I can't believe I didn't realise that before now. Severus still doesn't seem to be here... I need to get word to Hogwarts.'

"We will catch the old fool by surprise... Wormtail, you will have a place of honour for your most useful information concerning the 'secret' passage from the Shrieking Shack to the grounds of Hogwarts." Voldemort gestured to the ramshackle building overlooking the graveyard.

At Voldemort's words, Hermione narrowed her eyes as she concentrated on one of the dead closest to the supposedly haunted building, countermanding her original order. The skeletal form backed away, unnoticed in the crowd of bodies in a similar state. It also helped that the Death Eaters were avoiding looking at the dead whenever possible.

'Perhaps they need to change the name of their little club. It doesn't seem that they have much stomach for the actual dead... I hope my undead messenger arrives in enough time before the attack for Dumbledore to enact defensive measures.'

Staff meetings at Hogwarts were usually held midmonth at the weekend. In this case, at lunchtime. As Head of Slytherin, Severus was supposed to stay for the entire meeting, so when he felt his Dark Mark burn part way through the proceedings, he signalled Dumbledore. Alas, even the Dark Lord's summons was not enough to get him away from the bureaucracy ridden meeting. Hopefully, said Dark Lord would understand that his chief 'spy' at Hogwarts couldn't come at the drop of a hat. If not, Riddle would hopefully view the ongoing burning throb of the Dark Mark as sufficient punishment.

"...more crystal balls and incense are needed to stock my classroom..." Trelawney was droning on, peering around the room at her colleagues, several of whom (Severus included) were slumped over, staring into the fire in their boredom.

Minerva scrawled the demands down in her duties as the minutes' taker.

"The Dark Lord will fall by sundown on the Ides of March, banished by the Strand Breaker. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord is freed of his prophesised fate, his bonds cut by the Strand Breaker. The Dark Lord will fall by sundown on the Ides of March..."

Every member of staff sat bolt upright as Trelawney lapsed into her loud, harsh prophesising voice. She coughed, her bangles rattled as she slumped down in her seat, before sitting up, blinking rapidly as she cleared her throat. "Huh? What'd I miss? I must have dozed off... I'm ever so sorry."

The roll of parchment Minerva had been writing on was passed to Dumbledore, who frowned down at the shaky handwriting. After staring at the words for a long moment, he looked up, flicking his gaze up to meet Severus's.

His mouth opened beneath his beard, but before he could speak, the wards flared, outlining the walls and door of the staff room. "Something triggered the wards. I fear it's connected to what was just prophesised. I must investigate. Severus, Minerva; come with me."

There was a barrage of knocks on the door before they could reach it. Severus pulled it open, revealing Potter and Weasley. Potter was clutching a tattered piece of parchment, which on closer examination was revealed to be his map of Hogwarts.

"Hermione's gone," Potter panted, holding onto the doorframe to keep himself vertical.

Severus opened his mouth to demand an explanation, only for Weasley to continue the tale, equally out of breath as Potter.

"We were walking back from Hagrid's. She was right behind us, but when we got to the front door, she was gone. We checked the map, and she wasn't on it anywhere."

"The Portkey," Severus murmured, his face falling as his eyes darkened with suppressed rage directed at the meddling Dark Lord.

"What?" The question was asked by everyone who heard it, included some of the teachers listening in.

"He gave her a ring, a Portkey. It seems that Trelawney's prophecy is correct. This is it, Headmaster."

"What prophecy?" Potter demanded.

"Our esteemed Divinations professor has made another prophecy, invalidating the one involving you. You're off the hook, Potter." Severus brushed the boys aside with Albus and Minerva following in his wake. The wards made it obvious to the enlightened where they had been triggered, so it was a simple matter to go from the ground floor staff room to the Whomping Willow.

Before they reached the oddly still tree, they were met by a foul stench. Shortly after noses had been wrinkled with disgust, the sight of an animated corpse met their eyes. Rotting flesh hung from a largely exposed skeleton, one glassy eye mismatched with an empty socket staring out at them.

Five wands were levelled at the creature, but it opened its mouth to speak before any spells could be launched. The resulting voice was distorted by the condition of the throat, jaw and mouth, but it was unmistakable; especially to Severus.

"He's coming here, through the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow with virtually every Death Eater and a several hundred strong undead army. They're not far behind..."

The sound of Hermione's voice coming from the corpse sent shudders down his spine.

Albus sighed. "I feared that it would be so. Minerva, sound the alarm. We must get the students to their common rooms."

"But sir, we can fight! If everyone is hidden away, Voldemort will hurt Hermione," Potter protested, even as Minerva hurried away. The attack alarms soon rang out, with the hubbub of many pairs of feet shifting echoing from the castle as the students followed their instructions.

"That may well be so, Harry. But do you really think the majority of the students can withstand an attack such as this? Of age students who volunteer may fight, but the younger ones need protecting. Children are a danger to their own side in battle." When Albus had finished speaking, he raised his wand to send a Patronus message to Minerva, advising her of the change in plan.

"Do you mean that I can't fight?" Potter squawked, his face flushing with indignation.

"I shouldn't let you. But I do not have time to stop you."

A rhythmic squelching was steadily growing louder. Severus was able to pinpoint it as coming from the vicinity of the Whomping Willow. As his breath began to mist the air, the dead began to emerge from the roots, the earlier gruesome sounds made by their rotting feet. There seemed to be an unending stream of them, ranging from skeletons to fresh corpses marching three abreast.

The older (and braver) students were hurrying towards them, wands drawn. They were waiting for Albus's command to attack, though. Most of the professors were following them, a sign that the younger (and more sensible) students were safely tucked away in the castle.

Finally, the army of the dead was assembled on the now trampled lawn. They parted, allowing the black robed Death Eaters to advance, silver masks glinting in the dimming light. Low clouds were sweeping in to form fog, a Necromantic trick apparently done on the Dark Lord's orders.

There was a collective intake of breath as the tall, thin figure of the man who had once been Tom Riddle advanced to the head of his army, accompanied by a slight woman in deep red robes. Severus blinked, recognising her as what Hermione's Boggart had been. It seemed that You-Know-Who had an unintentionally ironic taste in fashion, as he highly doubted that Hermione would have transfigured her clothes in that particular way.

"Now that this blessed moment has finally come, all of my prepared speeches seem inadequate to the task." Riddle's high voice carried far. It wouldn't surprise Severus if the students inside the castle could clearly hear the words.

"Drama queen," Potter muttered. By the snorts of the assembled teachers and students, everyone has heard him... including the drama queen himself, judging by the narrowing of his red gaze.

"Surrender now and I will spare your lives... or die."

"As if life would be worth living if we surrendered! As if you'd keep your word about letting us live!" There was a mixture of responses, but as most started with 'as if' that was the predominate response.

"Very well. Die in the cold grip of my army, in the knowledge that resistance is futile; they cannot die. Attack!"

Wands were upraised as the first curses began to fly, only to falter as both sides registered that Riddle's precious army hadn't moved a single rotting muscle in response to his command.

"Necromancer, you know they are to fight in the place of the living. Order them to attack!" The Dark Lord's voice came out in a strained, high-pitched hiss much like the whistle of a boiling kettle.

Hermione looked sidelong at the pale, anger pinched face of Riddle. "I never said which living people they would fight in the place of, Tommy."

It was a sight that would be replayed in Albus's Pensieve time after time: the white face of the Voldemort suddenly reddening with rage as his jaw dropped, eyes glowing like Muggle Christmas tree lights. The twitch in one of his eyelids only helped with that impression, as it made the glow flicker.

"Traitor!" he literally spat, his wand upraised, pointing directly at Hermione.

"Hardly. To betray you, I would have had to be on your side in the first place!"

The Dark Lord swelled up, giving the impression of a bullfrog. The tip of his wand sparked green, obviously on the verge of releasing the Killing Curse. He suddenly spun, the wand pointing directly at Severus.

"You. You have played me false, all this time. Curse you, Severus Snape! Die, death is your reward. I only wish I had time to tear you apart." Voldemort didn't speak these words, but communicated them to Severus using Legilimency within a second. The heat of his rage was blinding, keeping the now former spy in place.

"Avada Kedavra!"

AN: Keep your raging mobs back. This story isn't over yet!