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A Brother to Basilisks	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 85172 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 15
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Chapter One Hundred and One—Reinvigorated

Severus didn’t understand what had happened—what could have happened—between Harry and Draco on the day they’d spent together, but he found himself grateful for it.

Harry had stridden back into Severus’s rooms with his eyes shining brighter than the scales of the basilisk that followed him. “I wondered what was going on with Scrimgeour,” he said, when Severus stood up and frankly stared at him. “Have they decided to try him yet? Do I need to testify in the trial?”

“There’s no reason for that,” said Severus slowly. “They have plenty of witnesses, most of whom would be glad to say that Scrimgeour attacked you for no reason. You should keep up with the progress of the trial, but—”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Then, as far as I’m aware, the Wizengamot hasn’t decided to try him yet.”

Harry nodded as if he’d actually expected that, and maybe he’d had some discussion with Dash or Draco that led him to. “All right. Do you think it would be a good idea to start telling more people that Dash has Slytherin’s soul, now?” He flopped back in a chair and looked at Severus as if this was something they did all the time.

“What has changed, that you want to spread that news?”

“Some good friends gave me advice. If I’m going to have a future, I have to do something about the present. Something about Voldemort—” Severus wondered if he was the only one who noticed the way Dash coiled back on himself when Harry said the name. “And something about the people who think I’m a horrible person because Dumbledore kidnapped me and tried to sever my bond with Dash. Would knowing Dash was Slytherin once make them look at me differently?”

“It would for some of them,” Severus said, forcing his brain to work and leave alone the spectacle of a politically-engaged Harry Potter for now. “Others will never be convinced no matter what you say.”

“But what about those some?”

“They are people who know that Dumbledore would not have wanted a basilisk with the soul of Salazar Slytherin bonded to the Boy-Who-Lived. They would find both the reason he kidnapped you and the way you defended yourself to be more plausible.”

“Okay. We’ll do that, then.”

“Spread it to the public?’ Severus shuddered at the thought of the chaos that would cause.

“No. Just more of those pure-bloods that Lucius probably wanted to tell.” Harry paused and tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Do you think he’s kept his promise this time only to tell the people I approved?”

“I haven’t received any more unexpected owls. So I would say yes.”

Harry nodded. “Then he can tell these people. You should make a list of names, and I’ll look at it, and have Draco look at it, too. He can tell me who some of these people are.”

“I should warn you,” said Severus, “that at least some of the families who would be natural candidates for this are those who were either Death Eaters themselves or have sympathies.”

Harry looked at his left arm and smiled a little. “I can’t trust Lucius that much, but it’s not because he had the Dark Mark,” he said. “And I trust you a lot.”

Severus took a moment to soak in how that made him feel before he said briskly, “But you will not be able to trust all these pure-bloods that much.”

“I know,” Harry said, with a small shrug. “But I need to take a chance at some point, and I can still trust what you and Draco tell me. Maybe even Lucius, at some point. Will you help me write the letters?”

There was only one thing he could say, and Severus was even thankful for it. There were him, and Dash, and Harry’s friends, to prevent Harry from leaping over a line that it would hurt him to cross. “Of course.”

*

“You are not concentrating!”

Harry sighed and let the shield of feathers he’d managed to raise collapse to the floor. “Sorry, Fleur,” he said. They were back in the classroom they’d been using for this, and Fleur stood in front of him, halfway between him and the bookcase that was charmed to throw books at him, scowling. “I have a headache.”

Fleur gave a faint frown. “You will need to concentrate in battle situations through a headache,” she said, but her voice was milder. She leaned forwards and rested a cool hand on his scar. “How long has it been happening?”

“All morning,” Harry admitted. He shot a sideways glance at Dash, sulking under one of the desks. Dash had tried to help him by taking him into the deep bond, and then taking him to Severus to get a potion. When neither had helped, he had gone off to brood, or maybe try to come up with another plan.

“I don’t know if the feather magic is making it worse,” Harry had to add, because of the way Fleur was looking at him. He didn’t want her thinking she was responsible for it when he really doubted she was. “But I wanted you to know that I still want to learn.”

“Do you?” Fleur studied him, then nodded. “All right. Try to conjure another shield of feathers for me.”

Harry raised his wand—

And the pain ripped through his forehead, overwhelming him, making him scream before he thought about the way other people would react. He slumped to the floor, his hands covering his forehead and turning slick with blood. He heard Fleur yell in shock, and then he felt the heavy scales slithering over him as Dash tried to tug him back into his own body.

It didn’t matter. Harry was somewhere else, the way he had been the night that Voldemort resurrected himself, and that was a place of darkness and heavy cold and mad laughter.

Look on what you have wrought, Harry Potter.

It took a second for Harry to recognize what he was seeing. It seemed to be mostly made of shadows. But then he realized it was Ottery St. Catchpole, and Voldemort was striding towards a house that he knew was the Burrow.

Some small defensive spells went off at his feet, and Voldemort kept walking through them even though his robes caught fire and burned fiercely. He raised his wand, and calmly spoke a curse Harry didn’t know, but which made the walls of the Burrow crackle with white light. Screams came from inside.

And they will not even be able to harm me. Because I have a Horcrux, do I not? And I am one.

The vision abruptly tore, and light leaked into the darkness. Harry gasped and surged, and found himself rising out of the vision into the deep bond. He knew the light of those stars. He turned and flung his arms around Dash’s neck, trembling.

He’s going to hurt the Weasleys, he’s gone to hurt them—

I am sending shadow snakes to defend them.

Harry opened his eyes in time to see all the shadows in the room coming to life, and Fleur backing away from the torches into the middle of the assembled desks, her eyes very wide. The snakes tangled together into a great, hissing ball, and then they began to move, slithering out the door in a cluster. Harry noticed that Dash was still wound about him, his tail raised like a rattlesnake’s.

Harry pushed at him. I want you to go to the Burrow, too. You have to go! You’re the only one who might be strong enough to stand up to Voldemort!

Dash lowered his chin. I am staying right here.

You can’t, you have to go—

Harry. I am here to protect you, my bondmate. I value the Weasleys because they are your friends, and I am sending the shadow snakes to defend them, but I’m not doing everything I would if you were in danger, because they aren’t you.

The last words were almost snapped into his head. Harry shivered, and then snapped back, Get off.

Dash wound himself slowly off, his head raised as if he thought Harry would change into a rabbit or something similarly delicious. Harry ignored the indignant protest that that hadn’t been what he was thinking, and turned to Fleur with a shallow bow.

“Sorry. I can’t stay for the rest of the lesson. I have to go.”

“Go where?” Fleur asked, her eyes bright with concern and one hand reaching out as if she wanted to stop him.

Go where?

You, at least, shouldn’t play dumb, Harry snapped at Dash, and said to Fleur, “Some of my friends are in danger,” and then he turned and ran out of the room. Fleur let out a loud cry as Dash slithered past her, but luckily, she didn’t try to get in the way and he didn’t hurt her.

Harry. Come back here.

The tone sounded like the one Aunt Petunia used to use to command him to weed the garden, although she hadn’t usually called him by his name. Harry felt Dash reel away from the comparison, and smiled a little, bitterly. Good. The closer he could get to the Burrow, the better. Then Dash would have to defend the Weasleys.

How are you going to get there? You don’t know how to Apparate. And I am faster than you are.

Harry had to stop as the corridor ahead of him suddenly filled with surging basilisk. Dash hissed at him, turning his head to the side so that Harry would almost have to run into his mouth to keep going. He stood there, panting, feeling as though desperation was carrying him further and further on.

“I have to go! I have to save them! You can’t stop me!”

Why not? I am stronger than you. I do not obey your commands. In this bond we are equals, Harry.

“Then you can’t hold me back either!”

“What is the matter, Harry?”

Severus had come up behind them, and Harry hadn’t even heard him. He whipped around, his hands clenched into fists, and spat, “Voldemort is attacking the Weasleys! He sent me a vision! And Dash sent shadow snakes to help, but he won’t let me go help, and he won’t go himself, and—”

“Of course not.”

Shocked out of his rage, Harry stared at Severus. “What?”

“Of course he would not leave you, and he would not let you go unprotected into battle.” Severus knelt down in front of him, something Harry always hated because it made him remember how tall he wasn’t. “Harry. Calm down. Think. What are the odds that you will be able to make any difference in the battle that we must fight against the Dark Lord?”

“I can’t leave them alone to die! He’s only targeting them because they’re my friends!” Harry tried to dart around Dash, but Dash twisted himself easily into the empty space. “And the longer we stand here and argue, the more he can hurt them!”

“You are absolutely right, and that is the reason I will go, and alert Minerva and some of the others who used to be part of the Order of the Phoenix,” said Severus calmly, standing. “But you are not a battle-trained wizard, Harry, and he can incapacitate you at any point he pleases with the pain in your scar. Dash, guard him, if you would. I go to rouse the others.” And he strode away, his robes flapping behind him.

Ron is going to be there! Ron is going to be part of the battle! Harry tried to lunge past Dash again, and Dash twisted him up in one enormous coil before Harry could make it. Harry tried to lift his arms; they were bound to his sides. He clenched his hands into fists and strained. He might as well have been trying to move a stone wall.

He sagged at last, but he whispered, You have to let me go.

Ron and the other Weasleys are only going to be part of the battle because they have no choice. I imagine they would trade with you if they could. Dash slithered firmly past any tempting corridors and ended up in the dungeons. I am going to summon Draco. I think he might be able to help you calm down.

You’re talking about me like I’m a little child, said Harry. His mouth was still full of bitterness and fear that he thought he could probably spit out like Dash’s poison.

You are acting like one. How do you know Voldemort is even attacking the Weasleys? What if the vision was a trap, intended to make you come running exactly as you were trying to do?

Harry paused, then shivered. He had to admit he hadn’t thought of that, but it had been hard, with the overwhelming fear crashing into his mind. He leaned his head back and whispered, “But it felt so real.”

Of course it did. It was meant to. Dash nuzzled Harry’s chin with his nose. Now. I am not going to leave you. In the end, you are the one I care about. But I can try to help you reach along the bond that you have with the Horcrux and see if you can locate him that way, and see through his eyes. Do you want to try?

Harry swallowed. If that vision was a trap, wouldn’t he just make me see what he wants me to see?

That is what I want to see. If he’s maintaining a false memory, I might be able to sense it.

“All right,” Harry whispered. “All right.” At least it made him feel like he was doing something, instead of sitting helplessly behind safe walls while the family that had taken him in fought and maybe died for him.

Everyone else would assume they were better off behind safe walls than dashing into battle and adding another casualty. Busy little mammal, Dash said, and nuzzled Harry’s chin again. Harry felt the love holding him as firmly as the coils. Concentrate on me. On my eyes. I won’t open them, of course, but I think it would be easier to reach beyond even the deep bond if you do.

Harry swallowed, and looked at the dim yellow glow under Dash’s lids, and reached out as far as he could.

*

Minerva staggered a little as they landed. Severus was ahead of her, and behind her was Filius, who wasn’t normally part of the Order of the Phoenix but who had been with her when Severus came barreling into her office and immediately insisted on coming along. Minerva had decided they were enough for the time being, and it was better to go now. If this was a real attack, then they would have to retreat anyway, no matter how many people they brought.

If it was only a Death Eater raid, or a trap, then three of them might be able to handle it.

Minerva looked around cautiously. It was a grey, misty day outside Ottery St. Catchpole, and utterly silent. Of course, that might only mean that You-Know-Who was inside the Weasleys’ house holding them hostage. Her spine prickled with anxiety as she turned to face the outside of their wards. She had not missed this part of the war.

“Filius?” she asked quietly, seeing the way he was already casting charms that caused a shimmer of purple and green to open along the edges of the village.

“Nothing yet.” He kept his voice low, not glancing at her. Minerva nodded in approval. Even though he hadn’t fought in a lot of battles in the last war, he had the right instincts. There were some duelists who never made the transition.

“Severus?” Minerva hated to ask it of him, but it was at least possible that he would recognize strains of Dark magic, or some strategy from his former comrades, that the rest of them wouldn’t.

“Nothing yet.”

Nothing for it, then. Minerva tightened her shoulders and began striding towards the Burrow. Behind her, Severus and Filius spread out in the points of a triangle. A glance showed her that Severus had Disillusioned himself. A good tactic, she admitted. Unless someone had heard them Apparate in and actually been able to count three distinct cracks—an ability she doubted—they could catch their enemies by surprise.

They moved carefully through the greyness, and now and then another spell sparkled ahead of them, courtesy of Filius, dissipating the mist or flaring to show that there were no traps or curses placed on the ground. Minerva paused when they came to a particularly stony area and murmured a few brief incantations. The stones promptly floated off the ground, Transfigured into smooth missiles, and darted ahead. They would wait for her command, in case there were innocent Muggles or wizards out, but then they would aim straight for skulls.

“Damn.”

The voice was Severus’s. Minerva halted in place immediately, even though it made her balance awkwardly on her heels, and tilted her head towards him. “What is it?” she asked, barely moving her lips.

“A what is exactly what it is.”

Minerva only had time to open her mouth again before an incredibly fast-moving shape came out of the mist, too low to the ground to be anything human. Minerva called the command word for the stones, and they came whirling back out of the mist, diving for the snake. One smashed into its tail, another into its neck.

But the snake, although it hissed in pain, did not slow down. It aimed straight for Minerva’s face, and she ducked out of the way only just in time. The snake slewed back around, mouth open, fangs dripping. Minerva conjured a shield—

Only to see the Dark Lord’s snake go straight through it and coil to lunge. Minerva called on the stones, coolly aware that they probably wouldn’t get there in time.

But something else did.

The ground at the snake’s belly was abruptly alive with crawling shadows. Little serpents popped out of the grass and dirt and grabbed hold of the snake. The more she shook her head and tried to throw them off, the more came, little threads made of purest shadow, and some of them climbed into her mouth when she opened it to hiss. The larger serpent reeled across the grass, tail lashing for a hold that wasn’t coming.

“Why would You-Know-Who stop his own snake like that?” Filius squeaked, prudently stepping back as the fight rolled near him.

“That wasn’t the Dark Lord.” Severus appeared from beneath his Disillusionment, his eyes gleaming. “Those are courtesy of Dash.”

“Mr. Potter’s basilisk?”

Minerva had to smile at the tone in Filius’s voice. Despite years of Dash coming to class with Harry and defending him, sometimes right in front of everybody, it appeared that Filius hadn’t realized the extent of a basilisk’s powers. “We should get on. Even if this was the only attacker, and I doubt she was—”

“You assume correctly.”

You-Know-Who stepped out of the mist. Minerva felt as though her bladder were trying to crawl back up inside her belly to hide. She swallowed. The monster didn’t look exactly the same as the glimpses she’d had of him during the first war; he was more human then, with his skin less pale and more of a face. And his eyes didn’t have the disconcerting habit of flashing back and forth between red and deep green.

Still, here he is. I have to make the best of it.

You-Know-Who aimed his wand. Minerva stood to meet him, and for a second, it seemed as if he might duel both her and Filius at once—

Until Severus hurled a potion from the side, a glass vial that broke and sprayed You-Know-Who with a thick liquid as green as his snake’s scales. You-Know-Who roared in response, and held out his robes to stare down at them. Then he lifted his head, and this time, the attention of those devastating eyes was fixed solely on Severus.

“I shall deal with the little traitor myself,” he whispered, and took a single step forwards.

Vines surged out of the ground, overgrowing You-Know-Who’s dark robes and snaring his arms as he tried to struggle out of them. His snarling was almost constant now, and he didn’t sound either human or serpentine. Minerva swallowed and went to the attack, calling her stones back around. They still didn’t stand much chance of taking him, she thought, but they had to try.

And there were more shadow snakes sliding out of the ground and the mist, too. At least they had some of Dash’s unique magic with them.

*

Severus grinned as he watched the Dark Lord struggle with his vines. He probably thought that was all the potion did, since it was a common variation of one that was used regularly to capture dangerous magical beasts, and the only difference between that potion and Severus’s was—to the eye—a deeper green color to these vines.

But the vines had touched the Dark Lord’s skin, not only his robes.

He should feel the difference soon enough, Severus thought, surprised at how casual, how amused, he was. Then again, Dash’s power was with them, removing Nagini from the battle, a deadly factor by herself. And…

He was not crumpled away from the burning pain the Dark Lord would, he knew, have been trying to channel through the Mark. Severus did not know if he would emerge alive from this battle, but everything around him was crystal-sharp, not smeared by despair. They at least had a chance.

The Dark Lord finally managed a hissed curse that blasted Severus’s vines, withering them on the ground. Then he turned to face Severus, and there was fear, impossible not to acknowledge, coiling around Severus’s skin.

“Now,” the Dark Lord whispered, batting away Minerva’s Transfigured stones as they stormed past his head without looking away from Severus. “I shall show you. Crucio!”

The curse left his wand, a thin stream of red light instead of the jet it should have been. It was simple for Severus to dodge. He laughed, a little—because he had to—at the utterly baffled look on the Dark Lord’s face.

The vines conjured by Severus’s potion needed access to skin, which they’d found. Then they began to feed on the target’s magical core. It wasn’t enough to take all the magic from someone as powerful as the Dark Lord, but it had weakened him considerably, and in the meantime, he did not know how much.

The Dark Lord lifted his head, and his eyes had gone a deep, startlingly familiar green. “Then I shall use his magic,” he whispered, and whipped his wand forwards. “Crucio!”

Severus leaped aside from the spell, which was back to full strength. His skin tingled, and he breathed in shallow gasps. Without being able to confirm it, he knew, from far away, that Harry would be writhing and screaming in torment as his magical core was pulled on.

A consequence of them being each other’s Horcruxes that we did not foresee.

But none of that made any difference to the coming battle, and Severus laid his hand on another potions vial in his robe pocket and whirled forwards into it as the shadow snakes climbed up the Dark Lord’s robes, as Minerva raised the dirt into fountains, as Filius used charms Severus had no idea of to create a shimmering cage of energy around them, probably to keep anyone else from intruding.

Let us see how much you know, Severus thought, and shouted, “Sectumsempra!”

*
Addiena Saffir: Thank you! I apologize if this chapter was not what you were expecting.
Silentxxdreamer: Well, they eventually will!
SP777: Thank you!
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A Brother to Basilisks