Part II - Initiation - Laying Plans

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me. Just borrowed. Will be returned. Snape is welcome to stay, though.

A big Thank You goes to my beta-reader, Maggie, and my beta-reader and brit-picker, Melusin, who both are always encouraging, helpful, and thorough.

Part II – Initiation

Chapter 10 – Laying Plans

18. All warfare is based on deception.

19. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable;

when using our forces, we must seem inactive;

when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away;

when far away, we must make him believe we are near.

(Sun Tzu, The Art of War, I. Laying Plans)

"Rennervate!"

Hermione's eyes flew open and stared into a pair of friendly blue eyes. The eyes were set in a heart-shaped, pink face, which was framed by blonde hair tied into pigtails. Hermione knew this face. It belonged to Hannah Abbott.

"You're dead!" Hermione blurted out.

Hannah laughed. "No, I'm not, and neither are you. Welcome to Dumbledore's Army!"

Hermione blinked a few times, swallowed, and looked at Hannah wide-eyed. "Care to explain to me what happened? Who rescued me? Where are Harry and Ron?" Almost as an afterthought, she turned her eyes away from Hannah and looked around. It looked like they were in a cave; the walls surrounding them were rough limestone with a few small stalactites hanging from the roof.

Hannah's face turned serious, and she laid a hand on Hermione's arm. When Hermione looked at her questioningly, Hannah squeezed Hermione's arm gently and said, "You must understand that you are dead to the rest of the world. The leader of our Underground movement rescued you. We call ourselves Dumbledore's Army...in Professor Dumbledore's honour."

"Who ... where ... who is this leader? Is Professor Dumbledore alive, too?" Suddenly, a tiny glimmer of hope sparked to life in Hermione's heart.

"No, he isn't. But many wizards and witches who were reported dead are here, working against You-Know-Who in the Underground."

"Mrs. Weasley?"

"No, I am sorry. Sadly, not everyone attacked by Death Eaters can be saved. But it will all be explained to you. "

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to clear her head but didn't succeed. She had so many questions that she didn't know where to start. This all sounded so absurd, almost surreal. She looked around again. The cave was empty; there was no sign of any occupants.

"What is this place? Where is this Underground? Who is this leader? And how did I get here?" Hermione finally uttered in a shrill, slightly hysterical voice.

Hannah smiled reassuringly. "This is just a random, uninhabited cave. We've never used it before and likely never will again. You must understand that secrecy is of the utmost importance; otherwise we're all dead. If as much as a hint of our existence gets outside the group, we're doomed, and we will barely be able to save our own lives, let alone rescue the lives of others."

Hermione took a few deep breaths, trying to remember her training, and slowly managed to check her panic and to clear her thoughts. "I understand. At least, I think I do. Go on ...."

"All right, next question. Where is this Underground? I cannot tell you because I am under a magical contract to keep it a secret from outsiders. You'll be there soon enough, I reckon. But first, you need to talk to Nundu, who will explain everything in more detail." Hannah grinned when she saw Hermione's confused frown.

"Nundu? Who or what is that?"

"He's our leader. It's his alias. We do not speak his name ...." Hannah giggled when she saw Hermione's grimace. "No, he isn't He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, don't worry. Some of the DA use pseudonyms, but only the ones who are active in missions outside our refuges. We never, ever refer to each other by our real names outside, except for situations like this one when a new person needs to be introduced. Then it can't be avoided, but then we're usually far away from everyone and everything that could be endangered. And that's just about as much as I can and will tell you here. Nundu will pick you up soon, and then you can ask him everything you want to know."

"I didn't call you by your name, and now I realise that you didn't say my name, either. So what's your code name?"

"I don't have one. I don't usually go on outside missions; I'm too nervous for that. I make myself useful, though. I brew standard healing potions."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "You brew potions?"

"You needn't be that surprised." Hannah mock-scowled. "I always got good marks in Potions."

"That's not what I meant." Hermione flinched. "This sounds more and more absurd. You're telling me that you have a place where you can peacefully brew and store potions?"

"Yes. We do have quite a sophisticated infrastructure. I was as amazed as you are now when I was introduced. But it was easier for me since my whole family was there."

"Your family? Your mother? They are all alive?" Hermione's heart went out to the blonde girl.

"Yes, all of them. Isn't that wonderful?" Hannah looked very happy. "I just wish that we could save more ... and that some people could be told ...." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at the floor.

Hermione understood the sudden sadness. "Er ... HE took it very hard. We were all in the Great Hall for breakfast when the Daily Prophet with the news arrived .... Oh, Merlin, my parents! R.... My friends!" She gulped. "This is horrible."

Hannah shook herself and looked up with a steely gleam in her eyes. "What would be really horrible is if we all were dead. Since we aren't, there is hope that we'll be reunited with those we love one day. Don't you think that that should be compensation enough?"

Hermione frowned. "Seen from that angle, certainly. I just wish I could spare them this heart-break." She took another deep breath, pushing her sadness and fear out of her mind. "What do we do now?"

"Nundu will be here shortly. Then, you'll go with him, and I'll go back to my group with a Portkey."

"But you must be authorised ...." Hermione stopped herself, realising the ludicrousness of her own statement, but she still was confused. "Isn't there a trace on the Portkey Spell?"

"The wands casting the spell are traced, if they're registered, but the spell itself isn't. Otherwise, the Ministry couldn't authorise certain people to call the spell without raising the alarm or without Apparating the spell-casters away. That's how the authorisation works." Hannah grinned. "And what do you know, we use unregistered wands. We're quite the rule breakers." She laughed when Hermione's mouth fell open. "Full of surprises, aren't we?"

Hermione's throat was dry. She coughed, wishing for a drink of water, and nodded.

Hannah's expression had become serious again. "Listen. When Nundu comes, try not to be too shocked. I know you will be; we all were when we learned who he was. Go with him and don't be afraid. He won't harm you. I give you my word. It was he who saved you, who saved us all, essentially. Just let him say what he has to say, and then you can ask questions. All right?"

"Uhm ..." Hermione said.

"Oh, there he is!" Hannah spun around at the soft crack of someone Apparating. At the cave entrance, the dark silhouette of a man appeared and dimmed the faint glow of a crescent moon. When the man moved closer, Hermione realised with growing terror that she knew precisely who moved the way that man moved. Her fears were confirmed when the face that looked down at her with a sardonic smile was that of Severus Snape.

"You!" Hermione shrieked but found herself unable to make another noise; Snape must have cast a Silencing Charm on her. Ropes had flown out of Snape's wand and bound her, and now she was quite helpless. This didn't prevent her heart from beating in her throat, or her eyes from casting a murderous glare at Hannah Abbott, all the while mouthing silent curses and threats; however, without a wand, her nonverbal magic refused to work....

Snape stared at Hermione with his cold, black eyes and then turned to Hannah. "Here is the Portkey. I take it that the basics were conveyed?"

"They were," Hannah confirmed. She smiled at Hermione, who flinched, and said, "Relax, I haven't lied to you. No need to kill me with your glare. Trust me. He won't harm you. You can trust him with your life. We all do." Another smile, and she touched the gum wrapper on the ground. "Three – Two – One –" The gum wrapper flashed in a blue light, and Hannah disappeared.

Snape came closer, sneered at Hermione's panicked expression, and grabbed her upper arm, which wasn't covered by ropes. With a soft, barely audible pop, he Disapparated with her.

---

"I do apologize for the treatment, Miss Granger," Snape said in his smooth, silky voice. "But without it, you would most likely have scratched my eyes out before I had a chance to wish you a good evening." They both had reappeared in a small cave that didn't seem to have an entrance or exit. He searched for something in his pockets and produced two small bottles. Unceremoniously, he forced the contents of one of the bottles down the throat of a furiously struggling Hermione and drank the second one himself. They both shrank until they were the size of mice.

"Will you come with me, or do I have to force you?" Snape asked quietly.

Hermione glared at him, but she was curious despite her anger. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself and nodded. Snape led her to the opposite wall where there was a small opening barely large enough for a mouse.

They reached another small cave, but it was still large enough to appear like a cathedral to tiny Hermione. One niche in the cave was furnished with a miniature table, two chairs, and a cabinet. Snape made her sit on one of the chairs, then he released her from the confining ropes and ended the Silencing Spell.

"You will have to explain a lot of things," Hermione hissed through clenched teeth, forcing herself to stay calm, although her first impulse had indeed been to throw herself at him and inflict as much harm as she could manage with her bare hands.

"I realise that this is all rather confusing for you, but I trust that you will act like the intelligent witch you allegedly are and execute this conversation in as civil a manner as possible."

At least the sneer he gave her was familiar, even if his words were not. Snape apologising? And had he just called her intelligent? This had to be some scheme to deceive her. She sipped at the glass of water he had given her and gathered her thoughts.

"Why should I believe a word you say?" she finally choked out.

"You're alive. Isn't that reason enough?"

"I may not be for much longer. This is likely just some perverted scheme to make me all teary-eyed and miserable for your Dark Lord."

"That's an idiotic assumption! Obviously your reputation for quick thinking is overrated. Why am I not surprised?" He scowled at her, eyes narrowed.

Hermione scowled back. "Why is it an idiotic assumption? It fits with your character: cruel, with a nasty sense of humour. You take pleasure in people's misery ... and you're a murderer. You've been playing cat and mouse with Harry these past weeks. Why should this be any different? Why should I believe that ridiculous story of yours? What do you really want from me?"

Snape walked towards her, eyes narrowed to slits and pushed his nose in her face. She leaned back as far as her chair would let her.

"Didn't you listen to what your friend just told you? Surely you don't believe that she is part of some sinister scheme to confound you?"

"I don't know what to believe any longer. She seemed real and sane enough ... but, maybe she is under the Imperius Curse ...." For a brief moment, Hermione had suspected that someone had used Polyjuice Potion to imitate Hannah, but then she'd remembered that Polyjuice Potion didn't work with hairs or other bits from dead people. Hannah had to be alive, and that girl earlier had moved and talked exactly like the Hannah Abbott she knew.

"And all that effort was made to confound one Miss Hermione Granger?" Snape snarled. "Idiot girl. I should have foreseen that the formidable Miss Granger would be too preoccupied with her own self-importance to be able to analyze things before she talks. As usual, your know-it-all attitude prevents you from logical thought. But then, it's hardly surprising; you won't have read about this situation in a book."

Hermione glared at him. At least this was the Snape she knew. It was only slightly reassuring, but at least it was something. She really couldn't see what use all this talk would be if Snape merely wanted to kill her. Maybe, she should just listen to what he had to say, she thought. She swallowed and cleared her throat. "You brought me here. If you want me to believe you, for whatever reasons, you need to explain it all to me. So far, you haven't really been all that convincing. And that pseudonym of yours. Nundu! Not the least bit conceited, is it?"

"Is it?" Snape growled. "For your information, those names are given to a witch or wizard by the Underground as a name of honour; they aren't chosen. For some reason, those people gave me that name, and I will continue using it whether you approve of it, or not. And about being convincing? What does it take to reassure you? Ask away. You now have the opportunity to ask anything you wish to know – at least, as long as I am able to endure your endless questions."

"Why did you murder Professor Dumbledore?"

Snape blinked once and glared at her coldly. "He ordered me to kill him. I promised him to obey every order he gave me. He was close to death, in terrible pain, and he feared for Potter and Draco Malfoy's lives. I killed him then and there because it was inevitable, and at the same time, an invaluable tactical advantage. I shall never forgive myself for doing so, but I had no other choice. If I had shown my true loyalties at that moment, we all would be dead. Draco, Dumbledore, myself, and your friend Potter. That second broomstick on the tower wouldn't have gone undetected for much longer."

"Prove it!"

"I shall show you my Pensieve memory of that night. I shall also show you Professor Dumbledore's memory from earlier events, leading to his death. I have shown this to each and every member of Dumbledore's Army who joined after his death."

Hermione frowned. This was too easy. "Memories can be tampered with. How will I know that what you show me is the complete memory, and not what you want me to believe?"

Snape shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Once again, you overestimate your own importance, Miss Granger. Think! Why should I do that? Why not just go through with it when I pretended to kill you earlier today? It would have spared me the trouble and the pleasure of your company." That last part was heavily laden with sarcasm.

"I have no other proof, Miss Granger. You will have to take my word for it: the word of Severus Snape, the murderer." His words sounded bitter. "After you have seen the memories, you will be faced with a choice. You can either agree to join our group and fight the Dark Lord – you will need to sign a magical contract which will bind you to strict secrecy about the Underground – or you can agree to be Obliviated, get a new identity, and then live the life of an ordinary witch somewhere far away from Britain."

Hermione flinched. This all sounded so ... so reasonable. So ... well meaning. Almost benevolent. So very unlike the Snape she thought she knew. She shook her head to clear it and studied him for a long moment.

In the meantime, Snape had sat down on the second chair, and he now met her gaze without blinking. Snape's expression was stern, composed, calm, and lacking his customary sneer or scowl. It was an unreadable face.

"Show me these memories," Hermione whispered, touched by Snape's words and demeanour despite her distrust.

Snape drew his wand, cast some protective spells around the cave and then turned to one corner. He tapped a sequence of taps and swishes on the wall, and, a moment later, a segment of the wall shone in a silvery light, turned 180 degrees, and revealed a table with a Pensieve on it. Since the proportions were right, the Pensieve must have been shrunk before it was brought there.

"Professor Dumbledore's memory is already in there. I will put my own in as soon as you come out again." He prodded the Pensieve with his wand, and the silvery shimmer began to revolve, faster and faster until Hermione, who had come close, felt her head spin. She bent her head to the surface, saw the image of a room, felt herself drawn into it, and tumbled downwards into the scene.

---

Hermione was standing in a bedroom. The room was dimly lit, and she saw Professor Dumbledore standing in the middle of the room, swaying on his feet, holding his arm and grimacing in pain. Hermione's heart beat painfully when she saw the former headmaster suffer, but she didn't have much time to pity him before someone stormed into the room.

"Sorry I'm late. I came here as soon as I got your Patronus, Headmaster. Why... Headmaster! What happened?" Severus Snape rushed to the old man, who had collapsed on the floor of what had to be his private chambers.

"A curse... Severus...."

"Hold still!" Snape stared at the blackened hand and arm of Albus Dumbledore. The burnt flesh seeped blood and fluid and emitted wisps of smoke from some spots on the skin. "An Incendium Nervalis, I presume?"

"Not sure... not cast... object..." the Headmaster croaked, his face twisted in pain.

"Merlin help you! Any lesser wizard would be dead," muttered Snape, and he started to move his wand over the injury while he spoke an incantation that sounded like a song.

Many long moments later, the blood had stopped flowing and the smoke had vanished. The pain seemed to have lessened as well since Albus Dumbledore took a deep, shaky breath and smiled at the younger man, the familiar twinkle back in his eyes.

"I think that was a bit close, even for me, Severus. But thank you; I feel much better now!"

"You must get into bed. I will call Madam Pomfrey. You call Fawkes; his tears will help you, too. And I will give you a potion." Snape started to rise, but Dumbledore put a hand on his sleeve to stop him.

"Poppy has already left for the summer, Severus. I don't really need her. You are still here; that is enough."

Snape shook his head. "You know that I will have to leave soon. Let me take you to your home and instruct the house-elves. You will need more rest...and time for healing."

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm not going home this summer. There is too much at stake."

"Headmaster! You must rest!" Snape helped the old man up from the floor and led him to his bed where the old wizard sat down, clearly exhausted. After helping the headmaster to lie down, Snape left the rooms. He returned a few minutes later with a phial in his hand. "Drink this!"

The Headmaster drank the potion and sank back on his pillow with a sigh. "I will be all right, Severus. You have healed me. I will recover in no time."

"I have done no such thing," Snape spat hoarsely. "If this is indeed the Incendium Nervalis, then there is no cure, as you well know. I can only slow down the degenerative process and ease the symptoms for a while."

The Headmaster looked grave. "I do know, and it is likely that it was the Incendium. But you've bought me time, haven't you? At least a year? Maybe more?"

"Maybe five years, ten if you are lucky. It depends on the care you get, and how well you look after yourself." Snape jumped up from the chair beside Dumbledore's bed and strode to one of the windows. "With phoenix tears helping you to heal, there may be more years still. In any case, you need to get as much strength back as possible. The stronger you are, the slower the progress. But any new major injury, and the degeneration will proceed rapidly again."

"And in the end, I will lose my mind, won't I, Severus?" The Headmaster sounded worried.

Snape whirled around to face him. "Yes, I am afraid you will. And before that, you will slowly lose the feeling in your extremities. What did you do, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "I am sorry. I cannot tell you. So, I will basically end up in a helpless, vegetative state?"

Snape moved back to the bed again. "Yes, Headmaster, I..."

"Don't, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "Don't say you're sorry. If you cannot heal me, no one can. I have had a long and good life; I am not afraid. But there are still things I have to do." He grabbed Snape's arm once again. "Severus, I want you to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"Promise you will help me when the time comes."

Snape considered that for a moment and raised an eyebrow. "I am a bit surprised that one of the finest Potions brewers of our time should feel the need to ask that of me instead of making it himself. But then...prerogative of the Headmaster, I suppose?" He frowned. "You know that there is a potion. I can make it for you. When you feel you must, you could take it."

Dumbledore grabbed Snape's sleeve with both hands, sounding almost pleading. "But if, for some reason, I cannot help myself and get to the stage where I am not myself any longer.... You would know; you would see it in my mind. Would you help me die? Severus, please, you know I wouldn't ask this lightly."

Snape stared down at the old man, a vein in his temple throbbing agitatedly. "How...? How could I...? No...." Snape's face was very pale. "Why me? Why not Madam Pomfrey? What else do I have to do before..." His voice trailed off.

"Why you? Because I trust you." The Headmaster looked into Snape's bottomless black eyes. "This has nothing to do with what you have to do, or think you still have to do, to redeem yourself. This is a personal favour I am asking of you."

Snape stared back at the Headmaster, long and hard. Then he took a deep breath, scowled, and said through gritted teeth, "I gave you a promise many years ago. I gave you my word to obey you whatever you asked of me. I gave you that promise because I knew you never ask more of people than what you would be willing to do yourself...and now you ask me to do this?"

"Because I know that you can do it, Severus. You are one of the few who understand...that an expression of compassion sometimes looks exactly like the opposite."

Snape scowled. "Perhaps you take too much for granted, Headmaster. Why not ask your brother or someone like Lupin? He shares your sentimental outlook on life."

"Aberforth couldn't do it, you know that, and Remus would break if I asked this of him. So would many others. You won't. Please, Severus."

"I still stand by my promise, but how can you be so certain that I won't break?"

"You know about the power, Severus. Even if you don't want to admit it. Don't deny it, not tonight. It is the same power that made you come to your senses. The same power that brought you to my door sixteen years ago. The same power that has helped you stay alive." Dumbledore chuckled softly. "The power that has kept you from strangling Harry and his friends all these years."

Snape rolled his eyes. "That is because I heeded your wishes, Headmaster, not because of the power," he said. "But I won't deny its strength, even if I fail to fully grasp its significance."

"You have shown on more than one occasion that you understand it more deeply than many, even if that may be on an unconscious level." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "But we can discuss this some other time. I am very tired. I think I will sleep, now."

"Goodnight, Headmaster."

"Goodnight."

---

With a gentle pull, Hermione was drawn out of the Pensieve scene. She stared at Snape incredulously. "This was ... he was ... he was so real. That was very believable."

Snape scowled. "I wouldn't have revealed so many personal details, but Professor Dumbledore insisted that I show this memory to everyone who doubted me. Obviously, his flair for the dramatic shines through here."

"Not only dramatic, but touching. He trusted you." However, Hermione had noticed that Professor Dumbledore hadn't told Snape about the Horcruxes. But if he had trusted Snape so much, perhaps he had told him about them later?

Hermione didn't know what to think anymore. Reason and past experience told her to distrust Snape. And yet, his actions, what he told her, Dumbledore's memories ... all of that had been very persuasive. And if Snape knew about the Horcruxes ... he would either be a terrible danger to Harry's mission or an invaluable ally. Despite her distrust, Hermione hoped that the latter would be the case. She had to find out what Snape knew.

"Why didn't Professor Dumbledore tell you where that curse came from? Or did he tell you later?"

"Professor Dumbledore trusted me fully. But he didn't tell me all his secrets, just as he didn't want to hear all of mine. I still do not know what caused his injury. He didn't tell me because I didn't need to know."

Snape looked at her pensively. "Before you make your decision, Miss Granger, you need to understand that the Underground isn't the charming and slightly chaotic group of eccentrics that you undoubtedly have learned to expect from a group of wizards and witches.

"The name 'Dumbledore's Army' hasn't been chosen out of sentimental reasons alone, you see. The Underground resembles a military organization. We're the guerrilla fighters in this war. We come out of nowhere; we strike and vanish without a trace. The enemy doesn't even realise who or what has balked their plans."

Snape smirked at Hermione's surprised expression and continued, "It was all part of Professor Dumbledore's strategy to defeat the Dark Lord. With the Ministry of Magic acting in its usual irresponsible way, he decided to take matters into his own hands and rally an army of loyal and skilled fighters to his cause. The visible part of this force is, of course, the Order of the Phoenix; the secret part is the Underground."

Hermione listened, captivated. Snape's lips twitched slightly, almost as if he wanted to smile.

"Professor Dumbledore was our general. He knew all the different parts of the organization and how they link to each other, but no other witch or wizard has that complete overview. It's not necessary, you see. Every person, group or leader only knows what they need to know. That way, any leaks of information to the enemy will be limited; betrayal, or giving out secrets because of torture, won't cause the whole organization to break down. We're like a spider's web: when one cell gets destroyed, the adjacent cells can take over its function until it is repaired. The whole organization is a perfect example for the high art of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"What do you mean?" Hermione had followed his explanation with growing excitement, but now he had lost her.

"Didn't you listen to my introductory speech for my DADA lessons?"

At Hermione's confused confirmation, he continued, "Did you really think that practising a few defensive spells and doing a bit of jumping and evading is all there is to it?"

Hermione stared, not sure what he was getting at.

"You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible. Your defences must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo.

"Professor Dumbledore was a master at Defence and a master at waging war. His motto was: All warfare is based on deception."

"Sun Tzu," Hermione threw in, wide-eyed.

"Indeed," Snape said. "I see that your capacity to read and absorb the content of books is still as strong as ever, Miss Granger. The Headmaster perfected the Art of Deception. Didn't you notice how weak he appeared in that last year?"

Hermione nodded.

"I assure you, Miss Granger, he was as strong as ever. The curse, which had blackened his hand, was dormant for most of the year; he was free of pain and in full command of his mental and magical abilities. But Sun Tzu also says: Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near."

"And so he appeared weak," Hermione whispered, "to make the enemy believe that all that stands against them is a corrupt Ministry and a weak, too trusting, old man."

Snape nodded, almost looking amused. "Perhaps the rumour about your alleged intelligence is actually based on some truth. That was an acceptable analysis."

Hermione gaped at him, and Snape smirked. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and whispered, "I wish I could trust you, sir. I really do."

Snape nodded. "I shall now show you my own memories."

He took a small phial out of the pocket of his robes and extracted Albus Dumbledore's memory from the Pensieve. When the memory was stored safely in its phial, he put the tip of his wand to his temple (Harry would have called it greasy, Hermione thought distractedly) and extracted a silvery strand of memory, which landed softly and soundlessly in the Pensieve. A prod, a swirl, and it was ready for visiting.

Again, Hermione came close and sank her head into the Pensieve. She saw the image of the Astronomy Tower, and then she fell in.

---

Severus Snape opened the door to the battlements on the Astronomy Tower and stood there, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to four Death Eaters, including an enraged Fenrir Greyback, and Malfoy.

Hermione experienced a second of disorientation when her point of view shifted, and she suddenly seemed to see the scene through Snape's eyes. At the same time, she could hear his thoughts and feel his emotions. He must have included them in his memories. She hadn't known that this was possible.

'Shit!' That was the crux of Snape's thoughts at the moment. His emotions were more difficult to discern because he actively seemed to push them out of his mind. Hermione thought she could detect fear, desperation, determination and loyalty.

Memory Snape's eyes swept over Draco, the Death Eaters, a weak and almost unconscious Albus Dumbledore, and briefly lingered on two broomsticks.

"We've got a problem, Snape," said one of the Death Eaters, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore. "The boy doesn't seem able..."

But somebody else had spoken Snape's name, quite softly. "Severus...."

Snape's attention focussed fully on Albus Dumbledore, now. Hermione could feel a pang of pity, loyalty and love (love?) from Snape, not unlike her own feelings when she saw the old man so hopeless and miserable.

Dumbledore didn't even have his wand anymore. She felt Snape's disappointment that he couldn't communicate with the Headmaster and wondered what he meant. However, in the blink of an eye, Snape had made a decision, all the while staring at Albus Dumbledore.

"Legilimens." Snape cast the nonverbal spell and probed the Headmaster's mind.

"Severus...Harry is here. You must save the boys! You must save yourself; save the Underground! Too late for me...I drank a poison tonight, and I am weak. The old curse is active again; I can't feel my arms and legs. Help me, before I lose my mind!"

Shit, shit, shit! Snape desperately pushed all lingering traces of emotion out of his heart and his mind, and with a nauseating spin, Hermione's point of view shifted back to that of a watcher, but she could still feel traces of Snape's emotions and feel his heart beat wildly against his ribcage.

Snape gazed at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"Severus, my friend, you must do it. Do it NOW. KILL ME!"

"Severus, please..."

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra."

---

Shocked by the green flash, despite being aware that it was only a memory, Hermione shot back out of the Pensieve without needing Snape's help.

He caught her by the elbows when she tumbled backwards and helped her to the chair. She sat down and stared at him, tears streaming down her face. Her opinion of Snape had just made an about turn.

"If all that was indeed true, then that was a terrible, terrible, thing to ask of you, sir!"

Snape's face was unreadable. "Some people have to do the dirty work. That way, none of the naive and innocent need be tainted." Despite his efforts to sound detached, Hermione thought she could detect bitterness in his voice again.

"I shall leave you to your thoughts, now, Miss Granger. This place is as safe as I can make it. For once, take the time to think things through and don't assume that you know all the answers. I shall wait outside."

After the second Pensieve scene, Hermione's thoughts had become very clear. That had been exactly the scene Harry had described when he had told them about the events on the Astronomy Tower. Everything now fell into place; everything made sense. Snape was loyal. He could be trusted. She was certain of it. And she felt relieved.

Hermione realised that she wanted to trust Snape. His apparent betrayal had upset her deeply and had shattered her belief in Professor Dumbledore's infallible ability to judge people accurately.

But now, after she could be certain that there hadn't been a betrayal, that Snape was indeed loyal, she was glad. Here was someone who could be relied upon, who was experienced, skilful and knowledgeable. A powerful wizard.

True, he disliked her. He could be mean, nasty and spiteful, but he could be trusted, nonetheless. Hermione's decision had been made; she knew what she had to do.

"There is no need for that, sir," Hermione said. "I used to trust you because of Professor Dumbledore's word, and I'm ready to trust you again because of the things you've just told me and shown me. I want to join the Underground and fight."

Snape opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say a word, a blinding red-golden flash signalled the appearance of Fawkes the phoenix.

Hermione watched in wonder as the bird hopped to Snape's side and very carefully ruffled the hair on tiny Snape's head, just as she had seen him do to Harry in the past. Fawkes blinked at her...or was that a wink...and hopped onto a rock outcrop where he began to sing.

Hermione and Snape sat motionless. Once again, Hermione felt the phoenix song ease every pain and every fear she had and light a spark of hope in her heart and her mind. A glance at Snape showed her that he must have felt likewise. He sat opposite her with closed eyes, his face as relaxed as she had never seen it before.

The song ended and Fawkes Disapparated. Both humans looked at each other, sharing their very first moment of trust and understanding. Finally, Snape shook himself out of his dreamy state and rose. His lips curled into something like a smile, and he extended a hand to Hermione to help her to her feet.

"Why didn't you call Fawkes right away?" Hermione asked. "It would have saved you a lot of trouble."

"I cannot call Fawkes. He comes as he pleases, but he is always helping. And, as you can see, my anti-Apparition spells don't prevent him from coming and going."

Hermione smiled. "He did that at Hogwarts, too, didn't he? Amazing creatures, phoenixes."

"Indeed! Now, are you ready to sign the contract? We have a long way to go, and I don't want to spend all night here." Snape scowled at her.

Alas, the old Snape was back, Hermione thought and smiled to herself. She hadn't really expected him to change his behaviour towards her just because she had proclaimed her trust. In fact, she hadn't had much time to expect anything, given the events of the day.

"Give me the contract!" She held out her hand and received a piece of parchment. It read:

I, the Undersigned, hold myself bound to keep the existence of one organization by the name of Dumbledore's Army a secret. Neither will I reveal its name, nor the names and identities of its members, nor its whereabouts or activities. The only exception to this rule is if I am chosen for an authorized mission to introduce new members.

If I break this contract, I shall suffer the consequences. Namely:

1. Immediate inability to speak and to write. If I should try to convey the information through any other means, I shall experience the effect of a Full Body Bind Curse, which cannot be counteracted by anyone other than those authorized to do so, the names of three of which will be revealed to me upon signing the contract.

2. The Full Body Bind will take immediate effect if there is an attempt to extract the information from me forcefully.

This contract will stay in effect until one of the three Authorized listed below releases me from it, or all three have died. If I murder any of the Authorized, I will die. If the first Authorized is killed before the other two can sign the contract, I will forget everything about my rescue and the Underground.

In return, the organization will offer me protection, shelter, and stimulating companionship.

The Undersigned Authorized #1

Authorized #2

Authorized #3

"Oh, how clever!" Hermione exclaimed. "How did you do it?"

"I presume you mean how do we effect the binding?"

Hermione nodded. Snape took another phial out of his pocket. Clearly, the contents of his pockets had shrunk with him. Hermione wondered if his seemingly bottomless pockets had been Charmed with the Undetectable Extension Charm that had been used to enlarge the boot of the Weasleys' Ford Anglia.

"You will have to drink this potion. It is a modified version of the Draught of Living Death and will cause an effect similar to the Full Body Bind. It also contains a Forgetfulness Potion. The signature makes the contract binding, and if it is broken, the potion will become active. Unlike other potions, this one will stay in the contractor's body until he or she is released."

Snape handed the phial to Hermione, who swallowed the bitter liquid down in one gulp. Both signed the contract, and Hermione felt a slight magical tingle go through her right hand which was holding the quill. A glance at Snape's hand when he signed also revealed a faint shimmer covering his hand and the quill.

"Your two other witnesses will sign the contract after we reach our destination. And now we had better get going."

A few flicks and swishes from Snape's wand hid the now empty Pensieve. Some careful spell casting removed the protective spells he had put up earlier, and finally Snape led Hermione out through another small crack, which looked suspiciously like a mouse hole. They followed the small path until they reached a large corridor. Both of them swallowed the antidote to the Shrinking Solution, grew back to their normal size and walked on.

"There will be no more magic from now on," Snape warned her before they reached an opening that led to the outside.

"Wouldn't it be easier to hide by just staying in our tiny forms?" Hermione asked.

"There are owls out there."

"Oh," was everything Hermione could come up with.

Outside, Hermione saw a mountain range in the North-East and valleys and fields to the South and West. The cave entrance appeared to be halfway up a steep hill, and Snape led her downhill.

As they reached the foot of the hill, she saw a small river disappear into a sinkhole. Clearly, this was a Karst area, wherever it was. "We'll get wet now," Snape whispered and told her to undress. When he saw her astonished gaze, he started to grope in his seemingly bottomless pockets and finally produced a plastic bag and a swimsuit.

"I'll turn around; you go and change into this swimsuit behind that rock there. Then put your clothes into the plastic bag. I'm already wearing my trunks under my clothes"

Hermione swallowed. Snape in trunks? Why not, after the day I've had? she thought and had to suppress a hysterical fit of the giggles. There he was, pale and thin with long, lean muscles on his bony frame. He has the body of a long-distance runner, she mused before she had to fight another giggle attack. Oh, yes. Sure, check out Snape. This has got to be the craziest highlight of an unbelievable day. Blushing slightly, she averted her gaze and ignored his raised eyebrows and glittering eyes.

When they had both stowed away their clothes and Snape's wand, he took the bag and stepped into the river. Hermione followed and forgot all about her brief bout of hysteria. The water was unbelievably cold and took her breath away. It took a moment to collect herself and adapt.

"Careful now," Snape said and pointed to a dark area, a kind of fissure, on the riverbed. The water's reflection made the crack barely visible; you had to know what you were looking for to find it, Hermione thought. Even then, the crack seemed far too narrow to be of any significance.

"Be not deceived by what you see and do not use any magic. When I give you the signal, jump into the crack. Hold your breath for approximately twenty seconds and let yourself be drawn in by the current. Don't panic. When you can't feel the current any longer, propel yourself to the surface and wait for me."

Puzzled by these instructions, Hermione could only nod and wonder. Snape inhaled deeply and dived into the river, pulling something away from the crack. It must have been a camouflage of sorts since a much larger hole was revealed. Snape waved at her, and she did as ordered. Filling her lungs with as much air as she could, she hopped towards the crack and let herself be drawn into a tunnel, her eyes firmly closed, her jaws clenched to stop her teeth from chattering because of the icy cold water.

A few heartbeats later, the current stopped, and Hermione let herself float to the surface of a small underground pond in a small cave. Trying to wring out her hair as well as she could, she waited for Snape.

He popped to the surface of the pond only moments later. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Just wet and a bit cold," she replied.

Snape shrugged. "It will get warmer very soon." He handed her the bag with the clothes and took a towel out of his pockets. After getting dressed behind another rock outcrop, Hermione handed everything back to Snape, who stowed it away again. He looked around impatiently. "Let's get moving!"

Snape led Hermione through a narrow passageway that seemed to connect the small cave with other caves. Deeper and deeper they descended until the faint light of Snape's Lumos was the only light Hermione could see.

"We shall have to walk for some time," Snape said. "During that time, I shall give you a more detailed overview over the Underground, and you can ask questions."

"All right," Hermione said.

"Professor Dumbledore had the idea about the Underground over a year ago...after the battle at the Ministry of Magic. Death Eater attacks became frequent once again, and I could not always warn the Order in time to prevent the murders. One day, a victim, who had been left for dead by the Death Eaters, survived. I found her but didn't know where to hide her.

"If it had become general knowledge that she was still alive, there would have been more attempts to kill her. Thus, I brought her to Professor Dumbledore."

Snape spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper. Hermione had to strain her ears to understand everything he said. She was walking behind him as the passageway had become so narrow that they couldn't walk side-by-side.

"'We will pretend that she is dead,' Professor Dumbledore suggested. 'If the Death Eaters can do that, then why not we?'" Snape continued. "We hid the woman in the dungeons, in a hidden section that doesn't show up on any plan or map, not even on Potter's Marauder's Map."

Hermione shot him a surprised glance; Snape had turned around briefly and smirked.

"But Madam LaFolle didn't remain the only presumed dead person for long. As you undoubtedly know, I pretended to be a loyal Death Eater, and I frequently learned about targets for planned Death Eater attacks ahead of time. I used to inform the Headmaster of upcoming raids, and together we developed a method to exchange the living victims with Inferi who looked exactly like them. You will learn how it's done. The presumed victim was killed for at least one Death Eater witness to see, and the intended victim was brought to the secret dungeons. And that's basically how you were rescued, too."

"Fifi LaFolle?" Hermione couldn't keep her questions back. "The Fifi LaFolle? The one who wrote the Enchanted Encounters series?"

"No, she passed away twenty years ago," Snape explained. "It is her daughter, Lola, who is also a famous romance novelist. I believe her series was called 'Suave Seductions'."

Hermione nodded. She thought she had seen those books at The Burrow. Mrs. Weasley, who had owned all of the 'Enchanted Encounter' books, would likely have read that other series as well.

"Why would she be a target?"

"Apparently, you weren't one of those students who constantly read Witch Weekly under their desks instead of paying attention in class...although, I seem to recall a time when you were quite smitten with that, ah, gossip rag."

Hermione didn't need to see his sneer; she could hear it.

"Be that as it may," Snape said. "When rumours surfaced that the Dark Lord had returned, Madam LaFolle started to write editorials and critical commentary in Witch Weekly. She suggested that people took Dumbledore's warnings seriously...and that caused problems for her...and not only from Death Eaters. But those problems didn't stop her. You are aware that she owned a considerable part of the magazine?"

"No, I wasn't aware of that," Hermione replied, captivated by his tale. "What was she critical about?"

"First lesson in guerrilla warfare, Miss Granger: you must be aware of the factions around you. You must know who supports you, who opposes, who owns the key devices for communication and finance, who supplies goods, who offers protection, who can be relied on, who can be bribed, and who needs to be watched carefully for duplicity."

Snape walked a few steps in silence while Hermione thought about what he had told her. Then he turned her way again and continued, "Lola LaFolle was critical of the Ministry's handling of the situation in particular and the Dark Lord's ideas in general. Madam LaFolle is a half-blood, you see?"

"Oh? I didn't know that, either. So that's why she became a target?"

"Yes. And she escaped death by a hair's breadth. So she ended up in the deep dungeons. However, during the following weeks, many families were targeted, and it became rather crowded. We couldn't hide all the pseudo-dead people and provide them with a minimum of comfort in that section of the dungeons any longer. Professor Dumbledore was concerned about the secrecy and safety of the school as well as about potential conflicts when so many witches and wizards lived in confined quarters and had nothing useful to do. However, they all got through that time remarkably well.

"That's when the idea of the Underground was born. Professor Dumbledore dreamed up the concept of a secret Underground army consisting of make-believe dead wizards and witches. This army would be a mixture of highly trained fighters and people who do the work necessary to keep a community running smoothly. And that's exactly what we did.

"We perfected the method of exchanging potential victims with corpses, and we found areas for them to live. We're mostly using caves in areas with ancient magical sites. These sites usually attract the attention of Muggles, thus the areas are often flooded with Muggle tourists and archaeologists. Death Eaters wouldn't willingly go to such an area, unless they're on a raid and intend to kill."

"The living areas and some space around them are under Fidelius Charms. They aren't seen, and people living there aren't found. The proximity of ancient magical sites permits the Underground to use magic without fear of being tracked down by someone looking for residual magical traces." He paused for a moment.

"I presume you are aware of the strong magical aura surrounding ancient magical sites?"

"Of course."

Snape nodded. "Naturally, no one uses their old, registered wands, so their magic can't be tracked by the Ministry, either."

"That is brilliant!" Hermione threw in. "Who did all this?"

"Professor Dumbledore and I started it, but the whole secret infrastructure has been built by the DA members themselves."

"And why did they call themselves Dumbledore's Army? Because, you know... I don't know if you know, but...."

"Yes, I know about Potter's little group. Professor Dumbledore was so moved by the activities and the name that he told everyone about it. In his honour, the Underground adopted that name. Professor Dumbledore was very pleased."

Hermione swallowed, nodded, and fought to keep her emotions back. Grief for the old man had attacked her suddenly, sharp and unexpected. She followed Snape in silence.