A Helping Hand

Disclaimer: I don't own the Potterverse, it belongs to JKR. I'm not making any money from this.

*Beta read by the terrific Larilee.

Chapter 5: A Helping Hand

Considering that it was the foremost wizarding shopping district in Britain, Diagon Alley was preternaturally subdued. The closing of Hogwarts had apparently decreased the already scant number of people willing to venture there. It seemed that many parents had opted to get their children's books and supplies via owl-order. The street was quiet and nearly deserted as Harry, Ron and Bill made their way along the empty walkways. In spite of the still-warm weather, they wore long, concealing cloaks with the hoods drawn up to overshadow their faces. Both Ron and Bill had hidden their signature Weasley-red hair and freckles beneath Glamour Charms, making them appear to be blond with smooth, fair skin. Harry had also made use of several charms to hide his scar and to change his eye and skin color. His eyes now appeared as black as his hair, while his complexion was quite swarthy. At Ginny's suggestion, he had used a magical potion to make his hair lie flat. He was nearly unrecognizable as The-Boy-Who-Lived.

After their brainstorming session with Black's journal four days earlier, Harry had decided to ask Bill to accompany them on their visit to Borgin and Burke's. The teens had learned a hard lesson in caution from their foray to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Bill was a good choice for several reasons. First, he didn't ask too many questions, conveniently assuming that Ron and Harry wanted to purchase an item of which his mother would not approve. Second, he was now fully recovered from the injuries Fenrir Greyback had given him. With his features darkened by the shadow of his hood and the still-livid scars running down his cheeks, he looked quite threatening. Lastly, Bill was an experienced wizard, good at dueling and a rough-and-ready fighter if trouble found them.

Bill and Ron, who were somewhat taller than Harry, walked flanking him like two bodyguards. The three of them slipped into Knockturn Alley and made their way watchfully down the street to Borgin and Burke's. Hearing his front bell announce the presence of customers, Mr. Borgin appeared behind the counter. "How can I help you, sirs?" he said in his oily voice.

Harry stepped closer to the counter while the others closed in behind him, emphasizing the impression that they were hired strong-arms. "I am interested in acquiring certain artifacts," Harry began, deepening his voice to both disguise it and make himself sound older.

"I have many types of magical artifacts," Borgin replied. "What in particular are you looking for?"

"I am a collector," Harry said. "I am seeking items of great antiquity."

"In that case, sir, I have a few rare and ancient objects you will probably be interested in seeing. I assume you are aware that such items are extremely valuable?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at Harry as if to confirm his willingness to pay.

Harry decided that he wouldn't dignify Borgin's remark with an answer; he gave a single sharp nod.

"Then, if you would please follow me," Borgin said with a slight bow, "I will take you to the private showing room. I am sure you understand that my most valuable stock is not here on display," he said smoothly as he led the way through a door at the back of the shop.

Thirty minutes later, Harry, Ron and Bill were outside, heading back up the street towards Diagon Alley. "What in the name of the Minister's mother was that all about?" Bill asked Harry in a soft voice.

Harry looked about carefully then said in a near-whisper, "It has to do with a search Professor Dumbledore and I were conducting before he died. Bill, I can't give you any details, but I can tell you that its success could be the difference between defeating Voldemort or not. Please, don't ask any more questions. If you really trusted Dumbledore, then you need to trust me as well," he said sincerely.

Bill placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Of course I trust you, Harry," he said seriously. "But I will admit to a great curiosity about what's going on. I also need to caution you, and you too, Ron," he said, nodding to his brother. "I would hate to see something happen to either of you."

"We know," Ron interjected, "that's why we asked you to come along today."

Bill pursed his lips and regarded the boys for a few moments. No, he told himself, they're young men, not boys anymore. They just proved it to me. Repeating his last thought aloud, he said, "You two just proved to me that you're thinking like adults – not foolhardy kids. I'm really glad that you've learned some caution. It's just too bad it took the loss of your friend's freedom to get there." Ron and Harry both looked down. "Sorry," Bill said, seeing their sad expressions. "I didn't mean to bum you guys out. Listen, let's go get a drink. My treat. You can let me know what I can do to help with this 'project' that you inherited from Dumbledore, okay?"

The others nodded and followed Bill down the street. Two doors before the entrance to Diagon Alley, Bill slowed and turned into a disreputable-looking pub. Surprised, but gratified, Harry and Ron followed him inside and up to the bar. It was a dark, dodgy place, with about a dozen tables and a long bar along the wall opposite the door. Bill ordered three Firewhiskys and handing them around, murmured, "Sip it, don't down it. That's the trick to avoid burning your throat raw."

They took their drinks to a nearby table and sat. "I think," Harry began, "that the next time we visit Mr. Borgin, I'll make a purchase. Then, on the third visit, I can begin sounding him out about what we really want."

Bill gave him a knowing look. "It seems that you have learned to use a bit of guile as well as planning," he said, raising his glass to Harry in a small salute. Harry smiled and sipped his drink.

They talked quietly for a while, keeping to innocuous topics and carefully avoiding anything to do with the Order's activities. "How about one more round before we go back?" Harry asked the others. "I'll buy."

"You're on, mate," Ron said happily.

"Fine by me," Bill agreed.

As Harry stood to go to the bar, several cloaked and hooded men entered the pub. Their faces were hidden in the shadow of their hoods, much as Harry, Ron and Bill's were. This was unremarkable, as it seemed to be somewhat of a fashion in Knockturn Alley. Three of the men made straight for the bar, while a fourth turned to the right, seeking a table as far as possible from the one Ron and Bill occupied. The others seated themselves at the bar, talking in an undertone that prevented Harry from hearing what they were saying. Harry got the drinks, and carrying them back to their table, he glanced at the other man. At least I presume it's a man, Harry thought. The short figure was huddled in a chair, back hunched over the table, as his left hand signaled the barman for a drink. There was something awkward about the man's hand motions, as if he had to concentrate on what he was doing to coordinate his movements. Something stirred in Harry's memory. That's odd, he thought, but he couldn't nail down what was bothering him. He sat down with Ron and Bill, but resolved to keep an eye on the lone figure at the other side of the room.

When they had finished their drinks, they rose to leave. Dropping a few coins on the table for the barman, Harry glanced toward the lone drinker. A brief flash of silver caught his eye, then disappeared under the table at the figure's right. Suddenly, the facts coalesced in Harry's mind, and he understood what he had seen. He turned to Ron and Bill, saying in a soft voice, "Back me up. Wands ready; this could be dangerous!"

He threaded his way between the tables toward the short, hunched figure, as Ron and Bill flanked him once again. As they neared his table, the man stiffened and reached into his pocket. But Harry was quicker. "Don't even try it, Wormtail!" he said in a fierce, low voice, his wand trained on the man's head. Wormtail froze. "Ron, take his wand. Bill, you get his right arm, I'll take the left."

"W-where are you taking me?" the small man squeaked.

"To have a little chat," Harry replied as he and Bill hoisted him upright and escorted him out of the bar.

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Afternoon lessons were over, and Hermione was re-reading a chapter in her Arithmancy text to while away the time until dinner. Snape was reading also, but seemed distracted and kept glancing at the clock or door every few minutes. A sudden rapping sound startled Hermione. A tawny-brown owl was perched outside the sitting room window, its beak extended to tap on the glass again. Snape rose and crossing to the window, murmured something too softly for Hermione to catch. The window opened inward and the owl hopped in, extending its leg so Snape could remove the small pouch that was attached to it. He untied it and removed an orange token from the pouch. Looking at the object in his palm, he frowned. "It seems that Wormtail has been delayed; he will not be returning until tomorrow," he said.

"That coin is a message from him?" Hermione asked curiously, rising to walk over and look at it. "How does it work?"

Snape considered a moment, then deciding it wouldn't hurt for her to know, said, "The tokens we use are color-coded: red means help is urgently needed, situation dangerous; yellow means the sender needs backup, but there is no immediate danger; orange means the sender is delayed, but not in danger. There are other colors as well, but those are the most frequently used. We each have a symbol that indicates who the sender is – see?" he said, pointing to a tiny symbol inscribed near the edge of the token. "That symbol, the Greek letter theta, is Wormtail's mark. And here, on the opposite edge," he said turning the coin 180 degrees, "is tomorrow's date. Meaning he will return then." He looked at the girl, his eyebrows raised as if waiting for another question. She didn't disappoint him.

"What's your symbol, sir?" she asked.

He considered telling her that it was none of her concern, then thought, What the hell! It cannot hurt if she knows. "It is the Greek letter Pi, lower case."

She smiled. "How appropriate," she said softly, "a number that has no finite end...." She looked down to hide her amusement. An irrational number? she thought, suppressing a laugh. Who knew Voldemort had a sense of humor? If Snape was aware of the significance of his designation in Muggle mathematics, he didn't let on.

He stared at the girl for a moment, thinking, What was that about? Aloud he said, "It was Wormtail's turn to prepare dinner tonight. Since you were next up for tomorrow, would you mind doing it?"

Hermione was surprised that he was asking, rather than telling her. "Not at all," she replied. As she headed for the kitchen, she reflected that Snape's interaction with her was increasingly polite, especially when Pettigrew was absent. While it was a pleasant change from the cold and often demeaning classroom persona she had experienced for the past six years, she was wary of his intentions. Everything he does has a reason, she thought. He's not impulsive (or kind). He must be following a plan of some sort. If I can spot the pattern, then I can figure out where he's headed.

Later that night, a melancholy mood settled over Hermione. Her thoughts kept dwelling on her parents, Ron, Harry and Ginny – the people she loved and missed the most. Nearly three weeks, she thought mournfully, twenty days of this – and I don't have any idea how much longer I will be here.... She tried distracting herself with a mystery novel she found on the bookshelf, but to no avail. Finally, she gave up, deciding to go to bed early. Once there, however, she couldn't sleep. A feeling of hopelessness came over her. When she realized she was back to being negative, she scolded herself, Oh, snap out of it, you whiner! But she couldn't. She realized she was lonely. I wish I had someone to really talk to – someone, she finally admitted to herself, who would give me a shoulder to cry on. Finally, she broke down and cried herself to sleep.

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Wormtail was bound with an Anti-Apparition Charm, at which Mad-Eye Moody excelled. A great deal of information had been extracted from him in the past few hours by Remus Lupin. Whereas threats had been ineffective, his fear of his master being greater than his fear of punishment, Legilimency had proved quite successful. At first, Harry had been surprised that Remus was a Legilimens. But thinking back, he recalled how Remus had sometimes inexplicably known what was on his mind. He remembered how Remus, as his professor, had known what was bothering Harry that day long ago when they had tea in his office. Then, there was the incident with Sirius in the Shrieking Shack. Remus had simply looked intently into Sirius' eyes for a few seconds, then greeted him as a friend, certain of his innocence. Yes, Harry thought, the evidence was there, we just didn't see it before. He watched as various Order members wrote down all the information Remus related to them.

Arthur, following Remus' directions, had sent a coded owl-message to Snape's house, so that Pettigrew's absence would not arouse suspicion. Their plan was to stage a raid the following morning to rescue Hermione and, if possible, capture Snape. Ron and Harry had insisted on being included in the team that would carry out the attack.

Harry had been livid upon discovering that Hermione was being held captive by Snape. That sodding bastard has killed nearly everyone I ever cared for! I won't let him hurt her! he vowed silently. Ron had seemed appalled at the thought of Hermione being at the mercy of their vile ex-professor all this time. However, the prospect of her imminent rescue had him keyed up to the point of distraction; he appeared almost jubilant to Harry. "Ron," Harry said as they waited in the Weasley's living room for the interrogation to end, "we have to go in there tomorrow with our feet on the ground. You have to calm down and focus."

"I know," he said flippantly. "By tomorrow I will be serious. But tonight – Harry, we're going to get her back!" he said ecstatically. "I can't help it – I'm relieved, happy, excited... all that stuff at once! Just think, Hermione once said I had 'the emotional range of a teaspoon.' I guess this proves her wrong," he laughed. His high spirits were infectious, and Harry found himself smiling in spite of his earlier warning.

"Harry," Remus called from the kitchen, "come in here for a minute!"

Harry immediately got up, making his way hurriedly into the kitchen, Ron at his heels. "What's up?" he asked.

"Well," Remus said slowly, "Wormtail here is refusing to help us breach Snape's wards. It seems that he and Snape are the only ones that can open them – from either side. I have pinpointed the location of the house using Wormtail's memories, but if we go there without him, we'll never break the wards to get inside without virtually destroying the place. That would alert Snape to our presence," he said sardonically. "It would also probably injure anyone inside," he finished grimly.

"What can I do?" Harry inquired.

Remus leaned close and spoke in Harry's ear, "Convince Wormtail to get us in – he owes you a life debt, Harry."

"Right," Harry said. Turning to face Wormtail, he surveyed the older man's face. There was fear and, surprisingly, determination in his watery, grey eyes. Harry drew up a chair in front of the bound man, noting that his hands, silver and flesh, were tied in front of him. "Listen, I'm going to give it to you straight, Pettigrew," he began. "You owe me. Big time. I spared your life in the Shrieking Shack three years ago. If you help us get into Snape's house tomorrow to rescue Hermione, I'll consider the debt paid."

Pettigrew shook his head. "I can't do that," he said breathlessly. "If I help you, my life won't be worth a Knut. Every Death Eater will be out for my blood."

Harry deliberated for a moment, then said, "What if you had Ministry protection?" Pettigrew's eyes widened and Harry could tell he was considering it. He pressed on, saying, "I personally will testify to the Ministry that you helped us – I will insure that they provide protective custody for you. Wand oath," he said, pulling out his wand and touching it to Pettigrew's chest, directly above his heart."

Pettigrew's eyes narrowed; then he nodded sharply. "All right," he capitulated, "I'll do it."

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Hermione woke late the next morning. She was momentarily confused. Snape always woke her then met her downstairs for breakfast. What's going on today? She thought groggily. As she sat up, she felt a twinge in her lower back. Damn camp-bed, she groused mentally. But on the way to the loo, she was hit with a sharp abdominal cramp and realized her lower back pain probably had nothing to do with the cot. How long has it been? she wondered. More than three weeks. Oh. I guess I lost track of the days. As she splashed her face with water, it suddenly occurred to her where last night's negativity had really originated: hormones. Usually, when she felt that monthly emotional downswing, she indulged in some mood-lifting chocolate and a good chat with Ginny. That usually kept her from going off into tears.

After taking care of her morning ablutions, she went in search of breakfast. From the signs her body was giving her, she estimated she had a few hours before her menses actually started. Well, Snape will just have to provide me with some 'supplies,' she thought, with a mental giggle at the picture her dour ex-professor would make in the feminine hygiene aisle of a Muggle pharmacy.

At breakfast, she found that the cramps were bad enough to take away her appetite.

"What's the matter," Snape asked with a scowl. "Are you ill?"

She colored and mumbled, "No."

"Well, what's wrong?" he persisted.

"I..." she stammered, blushing even deeper. Then taking a deep breath, she thought of her Mum and put on what she called her 'clinical face.' She'd seen her mother use it countless times with her patients, but also whenever she had one of 'those' talks with Hermione. "Well, sir," she said in a clipped professional voice, "I'm going to start my menses today. The cramps are a bit bothersome, so I think I'll skip breakfast." Now it was Snape's turn to color. A remarkable sight on a person so pale, Hermione thought with a detached air. She continued aloud, "However, I will need to get the necessary supplies." She looked at him questioningly. "Should I change into my Muggle clothes, sir?"

Recovering his composure, Snape raised an eyebrow, saying, "What makes you think I would allow you to go with me?"

She flashed a cocky grin and answered with another question, "You would be willing to buy feminine hygiene products for me?"

He stared at her expressionlessly for a few moments. "Perhaps you have a point. Be ready to leave in five minutes time," he directed. He transfigured his robe into an overcoat and sat down to wait.

She certainly has cheek, he reflected. In fact, removed from the school's environment and interaction with her puerile friends, he realized that she was much more complex than the overachieving know-it-all he had pegged her for. He supposed that his past perceptions of her had been rather one-dimensional.

When she returned, he took her arm and directing his wand to her wrist, intoning, "Defigo Ut Mei Corporis. That spell," he informed her, "creates an invisible tether, binding you to me physically until I reverse it. You will not be able to move more than four feet away from me. Come," he commanded, motioning toward the door. He unlocked the wards, not with a word, but by placing his right palm flat against the door panel. Once outdoors, he moved to the side of the house to avoid being seen, grasped both her forearms and Apparated.

They emerged from an alley into a moderately busy street and made their way down the left pavement. "I believe there is the Muggle equivalent of an apothecary a few streets in this direction," he informed her.

Looking around, Hermione thought they must be in a good-sized town; it was not big enough to be a city – certainly not London. It was probably close to Snape's home, since the weather conditions were the same as those outside his house. Wherever that was, she thought wryly. In a very few minutes, they had located the pharmacy Snape was looking for.

Hermione made straight for the appropriate aisle and grabbed the items she needed. She was surprised when Snape turned to her saying, "You may take this opportunity to obtain any toiletries that you are accustomed to using for grooming."

Hermione, a genuine smile spreading over her features, replied, "Thank you, sir."

Ah, Snape thought with satisfaction, I finally found where her feminine inclinations lie. Much more preferable than her reaction to the clothes!

Hermione took him at his word, filling her little shopping basket with all of the hair, skin and oral hygiene products she usually used. She kept thinking that he would say 'enough,' but he never did. He remained silent, literally at her elbow, disguising her inability to move away from him by taking her arm as if he were merely escorting her. Once, as they passed a display of hair accessories, he paused and pointing to the hair elastics and barrettes said, "I recall that you often made use of these while you were at school." Smiling, she put some into her basket.

She looked at Snape. "Okay, that's it," she proclaimed.

As he paid for the items Hermione had chosen, the clerk eyed him, her gaze lingering on his long, greasy hair. "Did you find everything you need?" She asked them helpfully. "You know," she continued addressing Snape, "we have some great hair products for men as well. Over in aisle seven."

Snape gave her his best Potions master-glare. "That will be all," was his short answer. Outside on the pavement, Hermione heard him mutter, "As if I would be interested in Muggle potions!" She wisely refrained from commenting; and without another word, they started back.

Hermione hadn't a clue as to what had brought on Snape's expansive behavior in the store, but it definitely made a nice change from his usual demeanor. Hoping to prolong their outing, she decided to let him know she appreciated it. "Sir, I want to thank you, not just for this stuff," she said indicating the pharmacy bag, "but also for letting me come along. It's really good to get out and walk a bit."

Snape, not used to gratitude, looked down at the girl in surprise. "You're welcome," he said automatically. Seeing the sincere and open expression on her face, he abruptly decided to alter his original plan for the morning. A walk would be agreeable, he thought. The weather is quite pleasant, and the girl's company not nearly as tiresome as most her age. Once they were safely hidden from passing Muggles in a space between two nearby buildings, he took hold of Hermione's arms and Disapparated.

To Hermione's surprise, they reappeared not at Snape's house, but next to a river, downstream from an old mill-town. She looked around with appreciation. In spite of the smelly character of the river, it was a pretty spot; the water moved with a slow, serene current, lapping the grassy green banks. "This is really nice," she said, "very quiet and peaceful."

"Yes," he replied, "I used to come here sometimes as a boy."

"Then that," she said pointing to the town upstream, "is where your house is located?"

He nodded. "Come," he said, "we will walk back into town. When we return, however, I expect you to make up for the lesson time we have missed."

"Certainly, sir," she agreed with a happy smile.

A half-hour later, they wound their way through the narrow, twisting lanes of the town and turned into the small street named Spinner's End. Hermione had barely taken a step before Snape's arm snapped up in front of her, bringing her to an abrupt halt. "Get back around the corner," he hissed. As they backed rapidly out of the street, Hermione saw what had alarmed Snape. Six cloaked figures were creeping along the front of his house, crouched low to avoid the windows. Snape pushed Hermione behind him and peered cautiously around the corner. The figures were gathered on either side of the front door, waiting. "I'd like to see one of them break my wards," he said, his voice barely audible. "No!" he said in a soft, but clearly outraged voice. "The traitorous vermin..." he trailed off.

Hermione crouched down and looked around his legs to get a glimpse of the house. A short, squat man was placing his hand onto the panel of the front door – a shining, silver hand. She gasped. "It's Pettigrew!" she whispered.

"Yes. I will repay his treachery later. Do not," he said in a fierce whisper, "attempt to call out – if Wormtail's companions are renegade Death Eaters, they will kill you immediately. Whoever they are, I cannot allow them to find my research. We must lead them away from the house." Straightening quickly, he thrust her back a foot and stepped past the corner into plain sight. "Wormtail," he called, "does the Dark Lord know you have some new friends?" He practically dove back behind the corner of the house and pulled Hermione along the street at a run. She heard a muffled blast as a hex hit the spot where they had been concealed moments before.

As Snape had expected, the raiders came charging down the street in pursuit. Having grown up in the town though, Snape had a distinct advantage. He dodged into narrow walkways between houses, through alleys and streets, towing Hermione behind him all the while. Eventually, he was able to work his way in a circle back towards his house. At one point, they emerged from an alley into a wide street one over from Snape's house.

"Hermione!" called a frantic voice. Looking up, she saw Ron and Harry running toward them.

Snape swore and pulled her back into the alley and down a tiny path between two buildings. Apparently, he thought, not all of them followed me. Some must have remained at the house.

"Hermione," Ron called again, now some distance behind, "fight him!"

The girl gasped as he tugged hard on the invisible tether that bound them together, but she obviously knew it was futile to attempt an attack with her disabled wand. The brats are still following, Snape thought, hearing their footfalls. Potter and Weasley to the rescue, he thought sourly. Not if I can help it! He ducked behind a dumpster and pulling Hermione to him, Disapparated. They materialized at the rear of his house.

Speaking in a whisper, Hermione asked, "Won't they come back here when they realize they've lost us in town?"

"Yes," Snape replied, "but I must insure that the house is closed, and I must reset the wards. Wormtail cannot be allowed to betray my work to the Order."

They crept around to the side of the house and looking cautiously around the corner, found the front deserted. Snape straightened and made his way swiftly to the door. He moved his wand in a complicated motion, like a doubled infinity sign, and speaking in a low voice, changed the access code to his house. Suddenly, they heard the sound of feet pounding on the pavement behind them. They bolted to the left of Snape's house, running between its wall and the neighbor's, bursting into the alley at the back. There, not fifty feet down the narrow passage, stood Wormtail, apparently surprised by their sudden appearance.

Snape reacted first, sending a Disarming Spell at the small man. But Wormtail blocked it, returning a glowing-red Slicing Hex at Hermione rather than Snape. Snape pulled her out of the line of fire, then sent a Stunning Spell and a razor-sharp, orange Slicing Hex of his own back in quick succession. Hermione was wide-eyed, knowing that the two men were dueling for blood, not honor.

"I'm going to finish you, Snape," Wormtail screeched. "You're nothing but a greasy, half-blooded stain on my mother's family name. It's no wonder they wouldn't acknowledge you!"

Snape's face was livid: pale white and twisted into a mask of hatred. "You worthless piece of shit!" he breathed in a soft, menacing voice. "How dare you flaunt your preposterous lineage in front of me? Your so-called pure blood has never given you one tenth the power I hold!" He flicked his wand, sending Wormtail crashing backwards into a garden wall.

Wormtail rolled to the side, pointing his wand at Snape and gasping an incantation under his breath. A fiery rope shot from his wand, twisting around Snape's ankles and tripping him. As he landed heavily on his knees, Wormtail took aim again, yelling, "Viscus Expulsum!"

"Protego!" Hermione shouted leaping in front of Snape to deflect the curse.

Almost simultaneously, Snape vanished the rope with a quick, "Envanesco." Then he pulled Hermione to the side of the alley, taking cover behind some trash containers. They again heard the sound of running feet approaching. Five men dashed into the alley as Snape called out, "Wormtail! The next time we meet, you are a dead man!"

Pettigrew, an expression of loathing and fear on his face, Disapparated with a loud crack. The five men spun to confront Snape, but a second crack signaled that he had escaped as well, Hermione still bound to his side.

Ron stood silently for a moment, an expression of disbelief on his face; then he began swearing softly in a steady stream of vicious profanities.

Harry was beyond angry. "He double-crossed us!" he seethed. "I gave that little wanker a wand-oath and he gave us the slip! I swear, if I find him first, there'll be no need for Snape's revenge!"

Remus exchanged a look with Moody, then said in a grim voice, "Yes, whichever side wins, his outlook is poor."

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Author Notes:

1. Spells: Defigo Ut Mei Corporis = secure to my body; Viscus Expulsum = entrails expel

2. Is Remus Lupin a Legilimens? I think he probably is. However, the credit for this theory goes to an essay I read at the Red Hen website.

3. Another quote from the Lord of the Rings: Lupin's closing line, "Yes, whichever side wins, his outlook is poor" is from The Two Towers. Merry says these words about Saruman, after the Ents have broken Isengard and confined Saruman to the Tower of Orthanc.