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Corvus Fallere	By : Mouse Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 7248 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Corvus Fallere
By Mouse
Email mouse
Warnings and such: Eventualy this story will be NC-17, however, the NC-17 portions will not be posted here. This story is archived completely on my homepage, http://home.earthlink.net'thehivemind/RL/index.htm. BDSM. Slavery. other stuff that goes along those lines. Snape/harry. Snape/ron. Snape/ hermione. Snape/other. M/M. M/F. M/M/M/F. and such.

Chapter 1
HP Journal, Day 185 (as counted by Hermione Granger)
Four months in, the first death happened.
We were pretty sure it was suicide; the man was found with his head in the big water trough and no water splashed 'round. Sirius says that everything must have gotten to the bloke. I didn't know him, personally, but he was one of the people that was here before I came. I don't really blame him, I suppose. I mean, we're all scared, even Sirius. I didn't think anything could scare him, not after Azkaban, but he says that this is worse. I asked him how, but he wouldn't tell me.
Ron thinks the man was murdered. I told him that he was a prat, and to stop scaring the youngers. We went back to playing chess with the little stone men that Ron had carved from a bit of the wall we'd managed to work free. Not much else to do.
That was nearly two months ago. We've lost almost thirty now, as if that first bloke opened a gate. At least five of them are confirmed as murders; the first was a girl attacked by two men, and then those men were... disposed of. Nobody knows who did it. You would think that in a room with over two hundred other people somebody would have seen or heard something, even in a room this size, but nobody is talking. I can't blame them. I saw the girl, after the attack. Maybe those guys deserved what they got.
As George says, 'Madness takes its toll.' He doesn't grin when he says it, though. He doesn't smile at all anymore, except when he suddenly cracks up for no reason and laughs for a while. I've never been quite sure about him, even before all of this happened. He looks lost without Fred; I've never seen them apart for this long, don't think they've ever been apart this long. But as long as Fred's out there, he's not in here, and I think that George is happy for that at least. God knows I'd rather that Ron and Hermione and Sirius were out of here, even if it meant I couldn't be with them. I hate it here.
The other clear murders we try not to talk about. Nothing to do for this long causes madness. I haven't seen the sun in over six months. I feel as if we have all been buried alive, corpses that don't know when to lie down and die. Why any of us still get up in the morning is beyond me. Not that we have morning... or evening, or anything. At least the people who have died are out of here. I try to tell myself that I would never do that. But I miss the sun. I miss the air. Each 'day' I feel as if another small part of myself is withering away. Maybe that's what those people who don't get up anymore feel. I envy those who have escaped this prison, either by madness or death.
Hermione is determined to keep people sane. Like it really matters now. But she is adamant. We play silly games. We sing. We had the biggest game of freeze tag the other day. Almost two hundred people, adults and students and children, running around a stone prison cell, playing tag. Twenty people 'it' at any one time. It was wild.
We also are learning different self-defense techniques from some of the wizards and witches. Most of us don't have a clue how to protect ourselves without magic. So far the martial arts stuff is my favorite, even if I'm no good at it. We train as if we can make a break from here, as if we can some how get out of this room and fight back against an army of armed Death Eaters.
Fat chance.
But I suppose having no hope is more painful than having pipe dreams.
It was Hermione's idea that I write this. The paper making experiment went well... I don't know what we would be writing on if it hadn't. The toilet paper tubes are a bit slick, and small enough that writing anything on them is rather frustrating. The handmade paper's texture is a tad bad, but what can we expect from banana peels? Oh, and of course, the purloined toilet paper. That's something the 'nice men' will give us in abundance. Most of us sleep on beds of the stuff, rolled and stuffed and shredded like rodent bedding. Small piles of bedding line the walls and venture out in spirals and twists. A huge warren of nests for the rats they keep in the basement. The paper tubes have been made into everything from fences and posts to decorative sculpture. One witch has almost perfected a kind of 'spinning wheel' out of them; she's the one that first made a blanket from the paper rolled into snakes and woven. We all have one by now; they help ward off the persistent chill.
When they started giving us blackberries two months ago we knew we had our ink. Finally, ink you can lick off your finger without being horrified. The paper took longer. The toilet paper alone is too weak; it ripped at the least pressure from the makeshift quills. Ink brushes worked better, but most of us wanted to use quills. I, for one, couldn't get used to the brushes. They moved oddly, and it felt wrong to be painting with a bit of Hermione's hair. Even remaking the paper so it was thicker wasn't any good; this one Muggle-born witch named Ester says that the fibers are too short. The banana peels helped; we realized that they didn't notice if we didn't return the peels, so we stockpiled them.
I asked why they keep giving us fruit. Hermione gave me some long complicated thing about the vitamins and the lack of sunlight. She also thinks that the lack of meat is what is effecting all the girl's cycles; less iron, or something. I dunno; never really paid attention to that kind of stuff until now. Sirius muttered something about 'keeping us strong... not a good thing.' He wouldn't tell me why not, either.
I'm almost out of ink; I'd better stop. Maybe someday somebody will find this. I just hope it doesn't get published as 'Harry Potter and the Descent into Madness."
***
I blew on the ink to dry it and laid the page next to my bed, on the stack of similar pages. I didn't know why I wrote that today; usually I just wrote letters to people or try to remember schoolwork. Hermione has a huge stack; I think she's re-writing 'Hogwarts, a history' from memory. We are all trying to capture a bit of the past, I suppose. I miss all my things. My wand most of all, I think. Well, my wand, and Hedwig, and sunshine, and robes that aren't ragged and too small and... No, I can't think like that.
Sighing, I got up and wandered over to the 'dining' area. They only feed us once a day. For a while we parceled the food out so that it would last, but then once they missed a day, and now we get less food than we used to. We just all eat our portion and then wait for more. I'm hungry all the time now, not starving, but not full either. My stomach was telling me that food should be here soon. I'm not the only one with that idea. The whole lot of us slowly migrated over toward the big stone doors, looking hopefully at them. They are our only link to the outside world, and I didn't think there is anyone here who can completely feign indifference when they open.
A sizzling sound announced the activation of the door spell. I heard somebody yelp as the spell shocked their foot; they must have left it over the painted line that arches away from the door. Safety line. I'm not sure if it is to protect them from us, or us from working ourselves into a frenzy trying to get out. That spell is stronger than the focused will of two hundred unarmed wizards and witches; we don't fight it anymore.
The right side of the door swings open silently. I'm always faintly surprised that it does so without noise. Nothing that big should move that quietly. One side is almost completely open and I strained my eyes to see the loads of food. Wonder if we will get any meat today? My stomach cramped at the thought; it'd been almost a month by my counting since we got any meat. Usually it's fruit, bread, cheese and peanut butter.
Movement caught my eye, and my head turned in synch with dozens of others. The other side of the door was opening. I felt a cold spurt of panic. That had never happened, in all the months I'd been here. I glanced around for Ron and Hermione, because whatever this is, I don't want to face it alone. I spotted Ron's head near the back and made my way over to him.
"Cripes, that better be the rescue party. If I have to eat one more banana..." Ron said, his eyes trained on the doorway.
"Fruit is good for you," Hermione said distractedly. "I don't think it's the rescue party, Ron. Why would they use the door spell if they were friendly? Are the youngers in the KS?"
I glanced back at the 'kinder-stalag,' the area we cordoned off for the children under thirteen. A few people shooed the last of them into the fenced area, and the appointed babysitters all stood shoulder to shoulder in front of it. We as a group had decided that the children needed more protection than we did, and all had vowed to protect them until death, if need be. Most of them were students, here without their parents. The Death Eaters also dropped off a handful of toddlers with the daily meal about once a month; we tried not to think about where they had gotten them. They didn't all speak English, and some didn't speak at all. Those children didn't do much of anything, just sat or slept. We had lost two to malnutrition because they wouldn't eat.
"Youngers secure. You want to sound an alert?" I asked her.
"No need. Look." She jerked her chin at the people closest to the door. They had already moved to stand shoulder to shoulder, staggered in rows, so that they presented a unified face. I guess that martial arts training stuff is coming in handy.
Sirius suddenly appeared next to me, his tangled hair swinging into his eyes. His head twitched back and fourth restlessly. "You three ok? What's going on? Did anybody tell you anything?"
"No, sir," Ron said, "But I think we're about to find out."
Both doors were fully open now. The door spell sizzled again, and slowly bulged outward, people hastily backing up so they didn't get shocked. Instead of the normal parade of food boxes, eight robed Death Eaters calmly entered.
Chaos erupted. We hadn't seen any of them since we were dropped here, and I think that many people kind of blocked the reality of them out. All of the training we had done meant nothing when faced with our nightmare. Their malignant presence rolled out into the crowd, and more than a few broke and ran. Some screamed. A couple of wizards threw themselves at the gently pulsing barrier and were propelled backward with a loud 'zap!'
The Death Eater in the lead motioned to one of the others. We couldn't hear anything over the din of the crowd, but he was clearly casting some kind of spell. A haze rose from his hands and swirled around his head. Suddenly it leapt onto the nearest person, who happened to be another Death Eater. Laughing, the first man gestured with his wand, and the glow seemed to wriggle for a moment before leaping onto the head of one of the prisoners on our side of the barrier, who froze; whether in panic or because of the spell, I couldn't tell.
Hermione's hand clamped down on my arm. "Harry, whatever happens..." She didn't look at me, her eyes on the Death Eaters.
I shut my eyes briefly. "I know, 'Mione. Ron?"
"Been brilliant, mate." His half grin coaxed one of my own.
"Yeah. Bloody brilliant."
The spell writhed around the head of the frozen man as everybody else backed up in terror. Even from here, I could see white all the way around his eyes. I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but couldn't. I could hear somebody panting behind me; Sirius was hyperventilating.
Abruptly the spell flashed, and then, as the first man collapsed on the ground, leapt toward the head of someone else. Mid air it broke into three strands, and it hit the two people on either side of its intended victim as well. A long scream rose from a witch on my right, and everything was chaos.
People ran. I don't know where they thought they were going, but they seemed determined to get away from those horrible, pulsing strands of spell. The spell leapt again, and split, and now there were nine people frozen, and four on the ground.
I couldn't see the spell anymore through the people, but I heard Hermione mutter something.
"At ten seconds an iteration, and a factor of three, we've got about thirty seconds maximum before those things get here," she yelled over the din, her eyes wide and scared. The three of us shared a glance, and moved to clasp arms. Sirius suddenly yelled behind me, and we all jerked, pulling tighter together. I ended up with Hermione's head tucked under my chin, with Ron's taller frame wrapped around us both. I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for whatever fate was coming.
Ron was hit first; I felt him stiffen and start to shake. Hermione yelped, terrified. I held her tighter, listening to her chant, "oh god, oh god, oh godohgodohgod."
"Shhh, 'Mione. I'm here. We're here. Together. Never alone--" I choked as she suddenly stiffened under me, a keening wail cut short as the spell caught her. Above me, Ron suddenly became a dead weight. My eyes stung as I tried to hold him up and keep a grip on Hermione as well. I refused to open my eyes, refused to see it coming. I would not let go.
The pain at the back of my skull was almost welcome; Hermione had sagged against me a moment earlier, and I had to sit down under their combined weight. A sound escaped me, a kind of wet gasp. This *hurt*, a wrenching, intrusive kind of pain. The thing was digging into my brain, swirling around, poking and invading. I pushed at it with everything I had, but it only hesitated briefly before spearing into my brain. I felt the tremors begin as the spell delved into my memories, my thoughts. A confusing array of pictures flashed behind my eyes, faster and faster: Dudley smacking me for spilling something, the cupboard that once was my home, the thrill of the flying automobile, detention, and the school, and classes, and catching the Snitch and falling from my broom and Hedwig and Hermione and Ron and DumbledoreandSnapeandtheForestandrunningandrunningandrunni-
***
I woke up, which was rather surprising in and of itself. More surprising, I think, was opening my eyes to see Ron's face inches from my own. He was grinning madly.
"Time to get up, Harry! You've been out longer than anybody else, Sleepy-bones!"
I blinked at him.
"Ron, give him some air. Honestly, you want to startle him back to unconsciousness?" Hermione? Ron moved back and I felt cool hands slide around my shoulders. "Can you sit up yet? Your head should be fine in a moment."
Predictably, she was right. She usually is. I glanced around curiously. We weren't in the big stone room anymore, and I didn't know whether to be relived or terrified. We were now in a smaller stone room. "Where are we?"
"Dunno. Woke up here. Sorted by color, I think," Ron said.
I looked at Ron, puzzled. "By what?"
He pointed to somewhere above his head. "Color. Me and you got the same. 'Mione's and George's is different."
"One what?" I glanced up, past his tousled red hair. And blinked. And blinked again. "Ron, why do you have a glowing grapefruit over your head?"
Ron shot a smug look at Hermione. "Told you they looked like grapefruit."
"I maintain that they are too small for grapefruit. Navel orange, maybe."
"They?" I muttered, looking over Hermione's head. Sure enough, she had a glowing grapefruit too, but it was green, where Ron's was a kind of orange-gold color. Looking straight up brought me an eyeful of my very own radioactive citrus. "What the bloody hell are they?"
"I have a theory-" Hermione began.
"Merlin's nose, give him the short version!" yelped Ron. Hermione glared at him.
"As I was saying... my theory is that the spell that they cast was a categorizing charm, like the one on the Sorting Hat, but a bit less... refined. That would explain the memory slideshow."
"I'll say it was less refined," I said, rubbing at the back of my head. "But why did we get orangey-gold and you got green? Boy-Girl?"
"Nope," said Ron, "Cuz George's is green, and Lavender's like us. Random?"
"Why would they go to all the trouble of using a spell to give us random baubles of color? They have to have *some* meaning." Hermione's brow crinkled as she though. "It can't be by Houses, obviously, but except for George and I, all the other greens are Ravenclaw. In fact, most of the people in here are green."
"Only Hogwarts students?" I ask, surprised.
"All students or alumni."
"Sirius?"
"Nope."
I craned my head to look at the handful of other people. Many were still unconscious. "Hey! You said I was last one up!" I said indignantly, slapping Ron's arm.
"So I lied. You can wake me up next time." His grin slowly faded. "Assuming there is a next time."
We sat, each lost in our thoughts. Over the last few months I had gotten pretty good at just thinking, without panic. Survival skill. I wondered where everybody else was. This 'morning' when we had woken up, we were a prison group of more than two hundred people. Now we were down to less than twenty. I tried not to think about everybody else, about Sirius, or the toddlers in the KS. Just yesterday I had gotten this sweet little girl to say "'Arry!" which was close enough for me.
Just as the last person came around, we heard a quick 'bang-bang-bang' on the door at the end of the room. We all stood up, watching the door apprehensively.
"Maybe it's food. I'm starving," said Ron, lightly.
"Must be because you're awake," I shot back, like I always did. We shared a weak smile.
The door shuddered, and then swung open, groaning loudly. Nine or ten Death Eaters entered, wands out. I don't know what they thought we would do to them; not one of us had anything more threatening than a shoe. Overwhelm them, I suppose. And then what?
The Death Eaters fanned out, leaving a small gap in the center. We left them a wide area as well. A beat of silence, then a taller man stepped through the door.
Twenty throats gasped at once. Forty eyes opened wide. And, beside me, one Ronald Weasley launched himself across five meters of empty space and was hit by six simultaneous hexes as he tried to kill Severus Snape.
Snape, the traitor. Snape, the deceiver. The Death Eater turned 'spy' turned Death Eater. My lip curled and I could feel the snarl vibrating out of me. An answering growl came from everyone else as Ron went down under five jelly legs and an *impedimenta*. We took a collective step forward-
Only to be stopped by his voice.
"That will be enough, children. Play time.... is over." He crossed his arms, just as he had done in school, glaring down his long nose at us. He didn't even have his wand out. Bastard. "Now. As many of you have problems following complex directions, as I unfortunately know from personal experience, I will make this very simple. Those of you with *Viridans Sphaerae please queue up on the left wall, those with * Auraria Sphaerae* on the right."
Nobody moved, other than Ron, who was stirring slowly. Snape sighed, his lips curled in annoyance. "No wonder you all do so horribly in school; your Latin is piss-poor. I should just toss you a lexicon and make you look it up, but I haven't the time. Let me speak in terms you will understand. Green ball left, golden ball right." He gestured widely at the walls.
Still, nobody moved. Snape's eyes moved over us, flicking from our faces to the *Sphaerae* bobbing over each of our heads before moving on. I thought I saw his eyes widen a tiny bit when he got to me, but I wasn't sure.
"Come now, even you group of complete imbeciles can understand that. Move, *now*."
"With all due respect, sir," Hermione said, in her perfect schoolgirl voice, "And I think I speak collectively for the group when I say, go fuck yourself, you perfidious, black hearted bastard."
I gaped at her. Did *Hermione* just say that?
Apparently she did, because Snape advanced, his robe slithering out to either side of him noisily. About a meter from her he stopped, his face stony. "Did I hear you correctly, *Miss* Granger? Did you just tell me to, quote, 'Go fuck myself,' end quote?"
"I did."
"Lovely language, child. I'm delighted to see that the *very* thin veneer of class and breeding you possessed in school has been stripped away. You always did put on airs above your station." His lip curled into a smirk. "Glad to see you've been put in your place, girl. I was never allowed to, despite my...desires." He turned away. My hands itched to grab his robe and throw him to the floor, but I had no yearning to face the pack of Death Eaters in the room. I made do by stepping on the trailing edge of his robe, as if by accident, as he strode away.
His undignified jerk when the collar of his robe throttled him was satisfying. I let go immediately, watching him pitch forward slightly before catching himself. He spun, eyes burning into the lot of us. His quick sweep of our amused faces only intensified his glare.
"Childish games? And here I thought we had captured a group of adults... Anyone want to fess to that little prank?"
None of us moved.
"No? Ah well. The masses must suffer for the folly of one. *putidus pacifico*" His wand was in his hand and the spell left his lips before I saw him move.
I grunted as something appeared in my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but it wouldn't budge. It tasted horrible, like castor oil, but was shaped like a-
Hermione turned to look at me. She had a soft pink baby's dummy in her mouth, and was trying to pull it out. It wouldn't budge. Mine wouldn't either, and the horrid taste was building up. I swallowed, but the rank taste just slid down my tongue and coated my throat.
The Death Eaters laughed. We all had pacifiers, with the colors ranging from soft pink like Hermione's to neon green for George. The taste was awful. I couldn't even spit around it, just swallow when the taste got bad. I tried to say something, but the rubber bit pushed my tongue down. We were quickly and effectively gagged.
I grunted in my throat, glaring at Snape. He looked genuinely amused.
"My, my, Potter, you look positively incensed. I *would* think that this is a new experience for you. Mister Golden Boy. Perhaps this type of punishment will be effective in curbing your childish tendencies. If not, we can always try spanking." His eyes sparked briefly. I shuddered, disturbed. This Snape was most definitely *not* the Professor I knew how to deal with.
He walked back to the front of the room, stepping around Ron, who was just recovering enough to stand. Apparently they had ended the hexes at some point. He too had a binky, and his jaw was working. Maybe he was trying to chew the damn nipple off... He made his way back to us slowly, and we held him up. He flipped the bird to Snape's back as he chewed. Suddenly he turned white, then green. He began swallowing rhythmically, about every five seconds.
Snape's slippery voice broke over us. "Oh, and children? I would advise against chewing the nipple; when punctured it will produce a steady stream of Ricinus communis oil."
Ron looked like he wanted to be mad, but was much too busy being ill. It occurred to me that he would choke if he vomited, which he looked about ready to do. Apparently Hermione had the same thought because she began shaking her head at him and motioning downward frantically. I glanced at Snape; he was conversing with a tall Death Eater casually and watching Ron, as if he hadn't just hexed us, as if offhandedly causing somebody to choke to death on his own vomit was commonplace. Maybe it was for him. Black bastard.
Ron gagged.
Startled, I shook my head at him. He nodded emphatically. Shit. Only one thing to do.
I strode over to Snape. Immediately wands targeted me, but I ignored them. Drawing myself up to my 'impressive' seventeen-year-old height, I looked him in the face and pointed at myself. He tipped his head at me.
"Yes, Mister Potter?" I could hear the amusement in his voice.
I glared at him. Smug sonofabitch. I jabbed my finger at the hem of his robe, and then at myself again.
"What is it, boy? You have to go to the restroom? You like my new robe? You want to sit at my feet?" He was smirking now, and the Death Eater he had been talking to laughed outright.
Hermione whimpered loudly; Ron gagged again, and I could hear him choking for a moment before he got control once more. I could feel my anger giving way to terror. He wasn't going to just let Ron choke to death... was he? He looked unconcerned and a bit amused as Ron doubled over. George was holding his brother and staring at me with the most terrible look. Lost somewhere between despair and rage.
I pulled at Snape's robe and clasped my hands together in an age-old symbol of pleading. *Please.*
His gaze chilled. "You want me to release him, Potter?" I nodded mutely. "You're willing to take the blame for that little prank, all by yourself? No Gryffindor preference to save you now. Just what you deserve."
I nodded frantically, my eyes on Ron as he started to heave.
"Kneel."
My head snapped around to stare at him. Everybody had gone silent.
"Do it, Potter, or your friend ends up another casualty of a war you've already lost."
I shook for a moment, feeling sick myself, but Ron's labored breathing made my decision for me. I dropped to my knees at Severus Snape's feet.
His hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head back. Staring deeply into my face, he said "*Finite Incantatem*."
The pacifier popped out of existence. I heard Ron gag and the sound of liquid splashing against stone. For the moment I was glad I couldn't turn my head; it sounded like Ron was throwing up everything he had eaten in the last month. A moment later I heard a Death Eater muttering a cleaning spell. Snape was still staring at me.
I didn't know quite what to say. What *is* the proper response to somebody who almost kills somebody but then doesn't? Somehow I didn't think there was a greeting card for this kind of thing.
His hand tightened in my hair. "Hmmm. Yes. Well. About time to go, I think." He lifted his hand straight up, so that I had the choice of standing or having my hair pulled out by the root. I winced, and stood.
"Now, children. Say goodbye to your friends. It's time to go. Gold this way, Green that way."
I saw the Ravenclaws glance at each other and walk en masse over to the left wall. Logic over fear, every one of them. Hermione and George were supporting Ron and walking over towards the right wall, which was where I was standing.
"Miss Granger, I know you aren't color blind. I can clearly see the *Viridans Sphaerae* over your head."
"I'm not leaving them." Her words were defiant, but her voice trembled.
"Really?" Snape's eyebrow rose with one corner of his lip. "How very... fascinating. Pray, tell, where did you get the notion that you had a choice in the matter?"
"Because we're not dead. You need us for something, or you would have gotten rid of us. You want us alive. Unhappy people have an awful habit of turning up dead. Therefore you want to keep us happy, and I am staying with them."
Snape stared at her for a moment then gave a snort of laughter. "I see you truly haven't been put in your place yet, Miss Granger. How... convenient. Are you sure you want to share their fate? I can assure you that the lot that awaits them is far different than yours, and I can say with complete honesty that your current assignment fits you more."
Hermione's eyes were firm. "I'm not leaving them."
Snape shrugged with one shoulder. "Very well." He suddenly thrust me toward them. I stumbled, but they caught me. His hands free now, Snape drew his wand. A flick and the glowing *Sphaerae* over her head shifted until it glowed the same ruddy color as Ron's and mine. He turned to George.
"I trust you believe that you won't leave them as well, Mr. Weasley? Would you like to make a wager on that?"
He turned away from us partially, and spoke to one of the Death Eaters, who inclined his head and left the room. After a moment he returned, a redhead in green robes trailing him.
"Fred! " George started forward, then stopped and looked back at his younger brother.
"That's right, Mr. Weasley. Your devotion to your brother is plain, but to which brother? You can go only with one or the other."
"It's a trap, George! That's probably not even your brother. They could have Polyjuiced someone, or an illus-"
"It's him, Hermione. I know it is. He... he misses me." George touched his head lightly, not looking away from his twin. "I... God, *Fred*..."
Snape closed on George. "Your choice, Mr. Weasley. You will not be separated from your twin if you choose to go with him. I cannot say the same about your younger sibling. The fate that has been chosen for him is not for you. Go with your twin." His voice dropped sibilantly. I could barely hear him now, but the sound was cold... persuasive. "It is what you want, isn't it? You miss him. Ron has Harry; he doesn't need you. Nobody really needs you, do they, George? Your parents have each other, and so many, many children. Bill had Charlie, Percy had his books, and Ron has Harry.... Even your little sister doesn't need you. In fact, the only one who needs you is your twin. And yet you dither... I wonder if he thinks you don't want to be with him? He's asked about you, you know. Over and over. More so than about the rest of your family. Look at him, George. Your indecision is destroying him."
Fred was staring at George, eyes huge, hands clenched in the sleeves of his green robe. His eyes didn't even stray to Ron or the rest of the group; they were locked on George.
"Go to him, George. Don't play this out anymore. You know with whom you belong." A long pause, in which George looked back and fourth between his brothers. Snape sighed. His voice rose sharply, filling with sarcasm "Besides, you don't have a choice in the matter." He motioned to the Death Eater that had brought Fred in. "Take them both back to the Center."
Moving swiftly, the Death Eater grabbed Fred's arm with one hand and quick marched over to George, grabbing him by the other arm. George made some understated protests, but as they were marched out, I saw that somehow he had managed to link hands with Fred. And as they turned the corner, I could see that George was smiling.
"Well then, that's done with. Shall we go? Follow me, then. And Mr. Weasley, stop crying. You still have two people that care if you live or die; that's more than many people can claim."
I glared at him, but, when he turned and quit the room, we followed. What else could we do?
As we followed Snape down the hallway, I finally figured out why his robe was making so much noise. It wasn't the thick wool that he wore in the classroom, or the starched linen that I saw him in at the Yule ball... it was leather! Scaly dragon hide down the back, edged with softer leather along the sides. The trailing edge was hemmed in something that slid and slithered against the stones of the floor... it sounded like faint hissing. I was watching the sway of the robe, listening to the faintly mesmerizing sibilant sounds as I walked; I could almost hear words in it, small snatches of conversation, soft hissing laughter...
My head smacked into Snape's back when he stopped suddenly in front of a large set of double doors. My cheeks burned faintly. I backed up into Hermione, her hand moving quickly to stop my retreat. Snape didn't turn around.
"Welcome, children, to your new home... at least as long as you last, that is." And with that ominous proclamation, he threw the doors open and stepped through.
We gasped. This... this was not a dank dungeon or a torture chamber. This was a large, airy courtyard, bordered on three sides by elegant hallways with arching doorways. The waterfall coming down the fourth wall fed a large rock pool of water before it meandered across the room and disappeared into one of the doorways. The warm air rolled out and we breathed it in, entranced. This small bit of beauty after so long looking at stone walls was overwhelming.
Our momentary pleasure shattered as the Death Eater behind us muscled us through the doors. Blinking I emerged into the sunlight for the first time in months. Turning my face to the light, I smiled faintly. I had missed the sun so much. I never knew how much I loved its warmth on my face, not until I didn't have it anymore. The warmth on my skin made me think of flying, of days spent by the lake 'revising' with Ron while Hermione scolded us for playing cards instead of revising. The smell of the water and the plants made my chest clench.
A breath at my ear startled me. "Lovely, is it not, Potter? All of this, created as a backdrop for you. A velvet setting for our gems."
I turn to look at him; old familiar hate welling softly in my chest. God, I hated this man. "Gems? Scraggly bunch of underfed prisoners, don't you mean? If we're the best you bastards have to display then you're even sorrier than I thought you were." My tone was blunted by despair.
His lips quirked at that. "Perhaps you're right, boy. You do smell a bit. We should definitely do something about that... after the auction." The edge of his robe brushes me as he strides away, and I heard it whisper again. It sounded like laughter.
Auction?
I hurriedly joined my fellows near the edge of the pool. "Please, please please tell me I didn't just hear that."
"What?" Ron's face was pinched and worried.
"Snape just said that there's going to be an auction. Please, god, let him be talking about antiques."
"Somehow Snape doesn't seem like a supellexphile to me, Harry. Look." Hermione pointed to the doorway across from the pool, where a few Death Eaters were levitating a large platform into position. She was ghost white, her eyes huge and round. I wondered idly what she had figured out before me. Judging by the look on her face, I wasn't in that big of a hurry to find out.
"That look like a stage to you, mate?" I asked Ron.
"Bloody hell. There is *no* way any of those bastards are gonna get me up there. I'd rather be..." Ron trailed off.
"What, Ron? You'd rather be dead? I'm sure that they can arrange that for you, if your pride is that important!" Hermione snapped. "After all this time, all we've been through, you're still as bleeding thick as when we started!"
My eyebrows shot up. I don't think I'd ever heard Hermione this angry. Not even when Flourish and Blots burned down. But her tirade wasn't over. "Look around, Ron!" she exclaimed. "Where are we? Look at the sky, at the stones. For God's sake, Ron, look at the doors!" She grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face the row of doors behind us. He wriggled in her grasp.
"Leggo, Hermione! What the hell are you talking about? What's wrong with the doors?"
But I saw it now. Cold despair washed through me. Trembling, I walked over to the door nearest us, reaching out a shaky hand to touch the wood. Old wood, aged and weathered from long use. A blank spot in the center of the door marked where something once hung, a familiar shield outline bright on the faded wood. I had been looking at doors like this for years.
"Ron, be quiet." I flattened my hand to the blank spot, searching for another explanation, anything that would change the truth in front of me. I was right about not wanting to know what Hermione had figured out. This... this was too much to bear. I turned from the door, as if I could hide from the truth.
"What? What the hell is going on? Where are we? Why are you flipping out?" Ron's voice broke with panic as Hermione crumbed to her knees, sobbing.
I could only shake my head, defeated. I knew where we were. I had been praying to be here for months. Slowly leaning backward, I let the familiar door take my weight. I couldn't hold it anymore. A moan escaped my lips as I slid to the ground.
"We're home, Ron. This is Hogwarts."
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