Chapter Thirty-Two

A/N: Everything you recognize, including all fully italicized lines, belongs to JKR. I make no money. I owe huge debts of gratitude to RedOrchid, who has tirelessly helped me through the mire of the Elder Wand, and Shellsnapeluver, who betas each of these chapters with speed and grace. I do want to let you know that there may be a slight (one or two day) delay on the next two chapters, as I am expecting a visit from my lovely beta, and so my writing time will be short during the next week.

"Draco Malfoy," Minerva whispered.

"Indeed. And now, it seems I have a favour to ask." Snape took a deep breath. He knew that what he would do in the next few moments would change everything. He knew that now he would have to admit that he was directly disobeying his orders, changing the plan.

"What is it?"

"I trust you understand the seriousness of keeping this to yourself?"

"Of course."

"I will expect your absolute silence on the matter? Even with the Order?"

"Yes."

"Good. I do not wish to have to Obliviate you, Minerva. There is someone, however, that I will ask you to tell."

"Who?"

"Dobby."

Her face was almost comical. "You need not goggle at me like a first year. This has been useful information, to be sure, and I thank you. But there are things I must attend to immediately. I will go from here to my stores and then on to my old rooms in the dungeons. If Dobby will see reason, if he will give me his trust, send him there."

She raised her eyebrows slightly. "There are other elves, you know. Others that are bound to serve you."

"I have served enough masters to know that I could never want a slave," he said pointedly and strode toward the door. He stopped at the threshold.

"And Minerva?"

"Yes?"

"You realize that I'm going to have to make rather a spectacle of you."

Something like a smirk danced around her mouth as she nodded. It was a look that she had often worn when they were the heads of rival houses, a look he associated with banter about Quidditch and house cups. He quirked an eyebrow and tried to return it. Then, he lifted his wand and ended the Silencing Charm. He took a deep breath and began to shout.

"You think your petty concerns require you to drag me through this castle to your office? Do you think you deserve some sort of special treatment? Because I assure you that you do not. Disciplinary concerns route through my office--no exceptions! I have given you the privilege of awarding and deducting house points on your own. Until now. But as you have shown that you cannot be trusted to act with even a modicum of common sense, I must insist that I approve your--"

"I am the Gryffindor Head of House--" She began to yell in return, her eyes flashing brightly at him. She crossed the room and pressed the Deluminator into his palm.

"Silence!" he bellowed, unwarding and opening the door. "Henceforth, consider yourself on probation. I will be watching your actions very closely, Minerva. Take care not to step out of line. I would hate to think what would happen if I fired you."

He pushed through the clutch of professors standing outside the door. "Don't get any ideas," he snarled. "I would be more than happy to remove all of you from this castle."

He charged down the hall and down several staircases into the dungeons. Three quick turns, and he was at the door of his former laboratory. He pressed his fingertips against the door and entered quickly, shutting and warding it behind him. He could enter his old rooms from here.

It took him only moments to find what he needed, though the walls were lined with countless bottles of potions, unguents and salves. His fingers danced nimbly over the choices, snatching up Veritaserum, Pain Reliever, Healing Potion and Dreamless Sleep, and tucking them into the various pockets of his robes. He ran his hand over his worktable, which was coated in a light film of dust. How he missed this room, this quiet place where he had worked without fear of interruption, where he had bottled safety and comfort and calm. But he pressed on through the next doorway, entering the room that had once been his office, and from there, into the sitting room.

He settled himself into a chair by the empty fireplace to wait. Snape's mind was still charging forward, unchecked, sorting through the information he'd been given. Dumbledore's wand... possibly more powerful than other wands, its allegiance won only by force. Voldemort, taking Lucius's wand, believing another wand would be needed to avoid the problem of the twin cores. That information had come from Ollivander. Was it possible that Ollivander had told the Dark Lord of the Elder Wand?

Where was the Elder Wand now? Snape presumed that Dumbledore had been buried with his wand, as was the wizarding custom, but as he had not been able to attend the funeral, he could not be sure. If Dumbledore had meant him to take the wand, why wouldn't he have revealed it or left it somewhere for him to find? Snape was hardly about to break into Dumbledore's tomb to get it. But Dumbledore had left clues to Hermione to lead her to the legend of the Deathly Hallows, so perhaps Minerva was right, and the old wizard had meant the wand to play a part...

A rather large part of him wanted to charge immediately upstairs to the Headmaster's office to demand answers from the portrait, but caution and secrecy would not allow it. Not until he understood. Not until he knew what Dumbledore might have intended.

Dobby cracked into being near the doorway and stood, not trembling as he usually did, but with his pointed chin held high. What was the elf doing here so soon?

"Headmaster," he squeaked.

"Dobby," Snape replied cautiously. "You have spoken with Professor McGonagall?"

"Dobby is not needing to hear Professor McGonagall's explanations, sir, though Dobby was glad to listen to them. But Dobby already knew that Professor Snape was working for Harry Potter."

Snape frowned at the house-elf. "I am not sure that I understand you."

"Dobby is knowing since last year that Professor Dumbledore had secret plans for you."

"Dumbledore told you that I--"

"No, sir." Then he reached up and bashed himself soundly over the head. "Forgive Dobby for interrupting you, sir. But Dobby can see your ring."

Snape inhaled audibly. "My ring?"

"Miss Hermione Granger has one just like it. Dobby saw Professor Dumbledore hurt, and you cared for him. Then, Miss Granger turned up with a ring just like yours. Dobby knew then that Professor Dumbledore would be needing to leave us and that he must have joined you with Miss Granger to help Harry Potter, sir."

"But in my office--Christmas day--"

Dobby took up his attack on his head once more. "Dobby is sorry, Professor Snape. The other house-elves, they is not associating with Miss Granger. They is angry that she is trying to free them. So they does not know what Dobby knows. Dobby was not wanting to call attention to himself, sir. Dobby did not think he was supposed to know."

"Stop," Snape said. "Do not punish yourself anymore."

Dobby's hands fell limply to his sides, and he beamed at Snape.

The elf had known because of Hermione. A tiny voice at the back of his mind piped up once more. Had Dumbledore planned this? There was a neatness to it that troubled him.

"I need to go to the basement of Malfoy Manor. There is a prisoner held there that I need to speak with. But the enchantments are heavy; and I must not be discovered. I cannot get there without your magic."

"Dobby knows that basement well, sir," the house-elf said as a tremor shook him.

"Then you know the danger. If you do not wish to take me, I will understand. I will not order you to do so."

"Harry Potter and Miss Granger are Dobby's friends, sir," he said slowly. "Dobby wants--"

Snape nodded.

"Dobby will take you, Headmaster," the elf said and held up his bony, leathery hand to Snape.

Somehow, despite the fact that the strange little elf had made it clear that he would, as seemingly everyone did, act on behalf of Potter, Snape felt oddly moved by the feeling of the hard, sure grip of the house-elf's hand in his own.

"Thank you," he said, and the crack of Dobby's Apparition rolled through him like a whip.

***

It was so dark in the Malfoy cellar that he saw nothing at all as he landed heavily on his feet. Snape threw his free arm out before him, afraid that he would stumble and crush the elf who had brought him here. The blackness was so complete that it seemed it seemed to have a life of its own, to twist and writhe before him, and his eyes ached with trying to see. He had no choice. He would have to light his wand.

Snape released Dobby's hand and cast a wordless Silencing Charm. Surely, whoever was down here had been alerted to their arrival by the sound of their Apparition, but as yet, no one had screamed. It was almost impossible to imagine that there was anyone down here, anyone alive at any rate, in the silence and the chilly dark. But so far as Snape knew, Ollivander had never been moved nor released.

He flicked his wand through the air to light it. In the dimness, he could see a small, gray figure curled in the corner of the cellar against the stone walls. Ollivander, he thought, taking a step forward. Whether he was alive or dead, Snape could not tell. The man lay completely motionless; there was no sign that he had heard their arrival, nor that he saw the light, surely the first light he would have seen in quite some time.

"Ollivander?" Snape said sharply.

Suddenly, he was seized about the knees and knocked to the ground, the hard stone beneath him sending buzzing pain up through his thighs. He hissed in a breath as he struggled away. How could he have failed to check the entire room? He had only a brief impression of matted blond hair before he shot a silent Stunner, immobilizing his attacker. Draco? What would he be doing down here in the darkness? He quickly scanned the cellar, his eyes finally coming to rest on the figure beside him, who lay as still now as the wizard in the corner, and he rolled the body over with his foot.

Luna Lovegood. Bloody hell. How long had she been here? And just as frightening, why hadn't he heard about it? He opened his left hand and touched his wand to the ring. Do not go to Lovegood.

Snape dropped to his knees beside the witch and felt her pulse. It was quick and feathery, but she seemed in no immediate danger. She was thin and dirty, and even by his wand light, he could see that her pale, translucent skin was streaked with bruises, but she looked otherwise whole. He propped her into a sitting position against the stone wall and pulled a phial of Healing Potion from his robes. Tipping her head back, he dripped the liquid into her mouth, letting it roll slowly down her throat. He followed it up with three drops of Pain Reliever and then moved away, advancing on the figure in the corner.

"Ollivander!" he said again, but the wizard did not blink. His silvery eyes continued to stare blankly at the back wall.

Tentatively, Snape touched Ollivander's papery gray skin. It was warm, pliant. He waved his wand over the wizard's body. He was alive. Alive, but perhaps buried in his own mind. "Ollivander," he whispered. "I have not come to hurt you."

Still, Ollivander did not move. Snape slid a hand beneath the old man's head and gently raised it from the floor. He hated to do this, but he had to know if the wizard was in there, or if his mind had been irreparably broken. "Legilimens," he whispered.

"Who is it... more of you? Leave me alone... I have nothing else... I have told all that I know... Kill me, please, just kill me. I am of no more use to you... this pain... the dark... please...Spare Miss Lovegood. She has done nothing. Oh, Merlin, please let it end."

The burn of his ring called him back, and he withdrew from the old man's mind. Quickly, he removed the circlet and held it up to his wand. Made it out alive. Must talk soon. She had already been... No. He must not think of that now. She was alive; she had news. That was all that mattered. He would gain what he could here and then they would discuss it.

I will be in touch, he sent and replaced the ring, preparing once more to enter Ollivander's mind.

"What are you doing to him?"

Snape spun on his knees to face the girl, who was clearly fighting her way free of the last of the Stunner. He raised his wand, but hesitated. She was not moving, only watching him. "You healed me," she said finally.

"Miss Lovegood," he began.

"Don't hurt him."

"I have no intention of doing so. How long has Mr Ollivander been in this condition?"

"He stopped speaking two days ago. After his last visit."

"I see. Has he been tortured?"

"Perhaps at first. I haven't been here very long," she said in her odd high voice. "The last time he did... whatever you are doing."

Fuck. Who knew how much would be left of the man's mind if Voldemort had proceeded him there. If the Dark Lord thought that Ollivander was hiding something, he would have ripped and bludgeoned until he retrieved it.

"I was performing Legilimency, Miss Lovegood," Snape said softly. "I wished to know whether Mr Ollivander still... had brain function."

"Does he?"

"Yes. He has withdrawn into himself, but at least on the surface level, his mind is active."

"I am glad to hear that. I miss him. There's not much in the way of company down here," she said blithely, as if she were discussing the weather.

"No," Snape said, unable to think of a more appropriate response. She did not seem to be afraid of him and made no move to attack again. Still, though, he was wary and spoke to her as he would to a strange dog. "I do not wish to cause you distress, but it is necessary that I speak with Mr Ollivander. I will have to enter his mind again."

"But you are not hurting him?"

"I will be as gentle as I can."

"And will you heal him, too?"

"I will."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. "You brought Dobby."

"Dobby helped me to come here." The elf bowed low in response. Luna's face registered no shock, but she turned and looked at questioningly at Snape.

"Miss Lovegood?" he said, though her unsettling, unblinking eyes had not left him. "Will you help me?"

"I don't have a wand."

"A wand will not be necessary. If you could lift him a bit, perhaps get him into a sitting position?"

The girl stretched hugely, as if she were unsure whether her limbs would respond to her commands. Then she crawled across the stone floor until she was kneeling beside Ollivander. Snape thought he would have to help her, as the man was limp and surely heavy, even in his emaciated condition, but Luna hooked her arms beneath Ollivander's and pulled him upright, bracing him against her chest. As she worked, she crooned to him in her funny sing-song voice. "It's all right, Mr Ollivander. It's just me, Luna Lovegood. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need you to sit up like this. Yes, that's it. That's very good. Professor Snape is here, Mr Ollivander, but I don't think he means us any harm. He gave me some Healing Potion, and he told me that he's going to heal you, too. Yes, just like that, Mr Ollivander. Just rest your head here against my shoulder."

When she had settled him, she looked up at Snape. "Is this good?"

"Very. Very good, Miss Lovegood. Thank you."

He raised his wand. "Legilimens."

"Snape! The girl said Snape! Doesn't she know? How could she not know? Snape! His right hand, come to... Leave me alone. Go away! He's taken what he needs. There is nothing else--"

Snape delved beneath the man's surface thoughts; he penetrated them as if diving through a thin film of slime on the surface of a lake.

"The wand--he knows about the Elder Wand--I tried to stop him, tried to block him, tried to forget, but he took it, all the same. Now, he sends his minion; now, he comes to take what's left of my mind--"

Very gently, very softly, Snape began to speak into Ollivander's mind. "I have not come for Voldemort."

"Lies... lies..."

"The truth, Ollivander. I have come for the truth about the Elder Wand."

"The Elder Wand! I wish I had never heard of it... I know nothing more! I have never seen it, never touched it!"

"But you know of its power."

"You seek the Elder Wand? You wish to rise, perhaps, above the Dark Lord? To reign yourself..."

"No. I come only to understand."

"If you know of the wand, then you know the stories... there is nothing I can give you, Snape. Nothing."

"I have Veritaserum, Ollivander. Do not make me compel you to speak."

"So it matters little, then. You pretend at courtesy, but you are no different than the Dark Lord. You will take what you want whether or not I wish to give it."

"I will heal you either way. I will do no more damage than you make necessary, Ollivander. You can choose to help me. But you are right; I will have what I came to retrieve."

Ollivander gave a long mental sigh, and for a moment, there was quiet in the old man's mind. "Ask what you have come to ask."

"Is it true that the Elder Wand passes only by blood?"

"The Elder Wand is not like other wands; it is true. It cannot be handed over willingly; it must be taken by force."

"By murder?"

"I cannot say for certain, as I have not examined the wand myself. But I think not. To conquer should be all that is necessary."

"What does that mean, 'to conquer'?"

"Bloodshed would not necessarily be... required. Only to render the master of the wand defenseless, to hold him at your mercy."

"I see. And will the wand function for a holder who is not a master?"

"Not well. Not as well, perhaps, even as a poor match, a wand that has not chosen its wizard. I think that is why so many have gone back to kill the wizard they had stolen from... as in the case of Godelot and Hereward... and Loxius and Livius. The wand will not perform until it is won."

"The wand recognizes power?"

"Oh, yes. The wand is powerful, and it thirsts for power. But more than power, the wand wants mastery."

"You think the wand is sentient?"

"All wands are sentient, Snape. Your own wand recognized you, so many years ago, in my shop. It chose you as its partner. But the Elder Wand does not simply want a match. No, its needs, its demands are greater. It wants to be mastered. It craves rule... destruction."

"Then, in Voldemort's hands--"

"There is a terrible symmetry there, yes. I admit it the thought has... power."

"Would it choose him as his own wand would? Would it choose him even if he had not won it?"

"The Elder Wand is governed by its own unique laws... but laws nonetheless. I do not think that it can choose as a traditional wand would. It was designed to draw blood, to breed strife. When the wand is in the hands of he who does not master it, it seeks... This is why the rumours surface... the wand is seeking its master. Gregorovitch would never have boasted of the wand if it had not been coaxing him to do so. He did not own it, and the wand wanted to be owned..."

"Tell me what you know of Gregorovitch... why does the Dark Lord pursue him?"

"Gregorovitch had the wand, or so he said. I believe that he did. He was a good man, a good wandmaker. He was not given to false claims. I believe he inherited it, that it was perhaps bequeathed to him by Baliclus, who died its master. This is why I believe that the wand made him brag of it... it did not want to be studied, to lie dormant in a collection... The wand was seeking."

"And Grindelwald? Did he take the wand from Gregorovitch?"

"The Dark Lord... he came here after he had slaughtered Gregorovitch. He was my rival, but still, I cannot imagine the world without... it is a terrible loss for wizards. There are few wandmakers of his skill. But the Dark Lord said that he had taken Gregorovitch's mind before he killed him. He said a young, blond wizard took the wand, that he had seen him come upon Gregorovitch unarmed and had attacked... perhaps the mastery was reborn in him. I admit... I thought Grindelwald. And the Dark Lord knew that I had thought it. That wand is a punishment and a curse upon the holder. He who masters it is never safe."

Never safe. This was what Dumbledore had tried to condemn him to. "Would it turn upon its master? Would the Dark Lord be able to wield it against its true--"

"Again, I can only guess. But I think not. I think--the wand would not want to destroy its master. It would want to join him."

"But if the master were the weaker of the two--if a child held the mastery, and Voldemort the wand--"

"I do not know," Ollivander said, but Snape caught the flavor of the man's sub-thoughts. "Potter?"

"But you can guess."

"I imagine that it would not. The wand is sentient, yes, as all wands are, and it seems to have an uncommon affinity for power, but its judgment... Can a wand judge? Can it feel anything besides the twanging vibration of a soul in harmony?"

"I have come to you because I believe you are the only wizard who might know."

"I have worked with wands my entire life. I have crafted thousands. Tens of thousands. But wand lore is inexact, unpredictable. I hear the high keen of a wand held in an unfamiliar hand, the subtle sigh of the wand that has found its wizard. But the wands in my store lie quietly in their boxes for eternity, if necessary. They do not seek. But this wand... it is bound by the laws of its creator, of chaos. I think it knows only the laws of force and domination. It would choose the wizard who had won it, I think."

"You have been very helpful, Ollivander."

"Snape... are you the master of the Elder Wand?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Because it seems only a matter of time before he knows. If Grindelwald had the wand, as the Dark Lord believes that he did, then Dumbledore must have taken it when he defeated him. You killed Dumbledore, Snape. A wizard as powerful as Lord Voldemort... he will be able to channel through any wand. But when he realizes that the wand is not the instrument of power he expected, he will know that he does not master it, and he will find you."

"That will be all," Snape said, slipping quickly from Ollivander's mind. The wizard blinked rapidly.

"Snape," he croaked.

"Lie quietly, Ollivander. Save your strength. You have been most helpful." Snape uncorked the remaining phial of Healing Potion and tipped it down the old wizard's throat. He added several drops of the Pain Reliever and the Dreamless Sleep to the man's mouth and motioned for Miss Lovegood to release him. She eased him gently to the floor.

"I cannot take you to safety," he said to her. "No one must realize that I have been here."

"That's all right, Professor Snape," she said. "It's not so bad."

Snape huffed in disbelief. The girl should have been in Gryffindor.

"Sometimes, at night, I can hear people talking, moving around upstairs. I can pretend I'm at Hogwarts, falling asleep in my dormitory."

Such an odd young woman, Snape thought. But she reminded him a bit of Hermione. Such steel underneath. He wished that he did not have to do it.

"Miss Lovegood, I will have to Obliviate you. Both of you."

She nodded.

"I will send help as quickly as I can." Why was he making promises to a girl whose memory he was about to take? It was senseless; she would not remember any of this later, and yet, he found he could not leave her alone in that relentless darkness without speaking a few words of hope. "Hold on."

"Yes, sir. Should I sit very still?"

"That would be helpful, yes."

But she did not sit still. Instead, she leaned forward and brushed his sleeve with her hand.

"I didn't realize before. That you were on our side."

He snatched his arm away, suddenly horrified. What was he doing? In twenty-four hours, he had revealed himself to four people. Four! He was unraveling the plan as surely as if he marched up to Voldemort and announced himself a traitor. This was madness--this was death. All these years, this was what he had known he must never have. What business did he have being touched by house-elves and children?

"Obliviate!"

The girl's eyes had gone soft and unfocused, but she seemed to watch as he Obliviated Ollivander.

Then he looked down, and Dobby solemnly held up his small bony hand. Damn it all. He took it, but when he heard the crack of the elf's Apparition, his heart seemed to stutter and stop in his chest. As they moved into blackness, he felt suddenly sure that he had died, that somehow, someone had managed to curse him just before he escaped and that the crushing, suffocating darkness was the feeling of his soul being wrenched from his body.

***

When they arrived in the Headmaster's office, he was sweating and afraid, and his very fear terrified and enraged him.

"That will be all, Dobby," he said coldly. "Thank you."

Dobby made no move to leave the room.

"I said that will be all. I have business with Dumbledore."

Dobby looked at him inscrutably and Disapparated, leaving Snape alone in the room, though he knew the former Headmasters watched him with interest. He walked to his desk and sat down with this back to the portraits.

The room was eerily silent, but he could not focus, could not begin to think what he wanted to say.

Dumbledore had sent him to his death, and he was afraid to die.