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Dark Lord Rising	By : Sparrowbirdie Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6505 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, Midsomer Murders or Troy. I make no profit from writing this story. This is a work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
He didn't wake until noon. Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw, was Harry Potter sitting on a chair next to his bed. He was resting his elbows on his knees, his hands folded together, his face concerned and serious. The green eyes on fire, intently observing him. Severus Snape sighed. He was slightly confused, not quite knowing where he was. He half expected to be back at Azkaban. But he was lying in a comfortable bed, in a room with a cool blue colour and white ceiling. He wanted to sit. Getting up was awkward as he was stiff-jointed and sore everywhere. Then he remembered.

He focused on the mind inside his belly. It was there. Silent, almost dormant, but very much present.

“Where … is Melchior?” Severus asked. He coughed. His throat was dry.

“He's downstairs. Should I get him?”

“Yes please” Severus answered. He waited until he was alone. Then he buried his face in his palms and let out one single sob. Memories of dark days in Azkaban flooded his mind, simmering and mixing into a blur of fiction and nightmare. Had it been real? Had he been there? Had the bricks in the wall collapsed? Had there really been someone speaking to him inside his head? He wiped the tears with the back of his hand as Melchior appeared into the doorway, closely accompanied by Harry. There was a loud bang somewhere, of a door shutting, swift steps, and Draco also appeared in the doorway. Melchior took one look at Severus before he turned abruptly and ushered the boys out of the room. He shut the door.

“He's not speaking to me anymore” Severus said, struggling to restrain his emotions. “I can feel him – but he's so quiet …!” Melchior sat down on the edge of the bed, extended his right hand and touched Severus' belly. A long, painstaking minute went in complete silence while Melchior focused.

“Alistair's asleep.”

“Asleep? That's all? Is he – is he all right? Is he healthy? When will he wake up? Is he getting enough nutrition? Why isn't he saying anything? Is he tired from yesterday?!”

“Severus, look at me” Melchior commanded him softly. He waited until he had Severus' attention. “Alistair's napping. He's not tired from breaking you out of Azkaban. He's doing fine and he's healthy. Unborn eudaimons do not take naps unless they feel safe and comfortable. He likes you, Severus. He more than likes you.”

“He's fine” Severus told himself, “he's fine …!”

“Were you afraid you had lost him?”

“Yes” Severus admitted. The admission brought him to tears.

“Hush” Melchior said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do not upset yourself, or you will wake him. Your first and foremost task now, Severus, is to stay healthy. Alistair depends on you being healthy and content. As content as it is possible to be, in these times.”

When Melchior left the room, Draco was waiting outside the door. He was holding a breakfast tray. Sandwiches. Glass of orange juice, tea cup and a teapot with freshly brewed tea.

“Well, well” Melchior told him, “I'm almost jealous now. I can't recall you ever bringing me breakfast in bed.” Melchior flashed him a friendly smile, but Draco was busy staring elsewhere. The comment stabbed him straight in the gut, and he felt badly for having miscalculated so. He had wanted to do something for Severus as a genuine act of kindness. Now, it was like being back at Hogwarts, with enemies wherever he turned. All of his efforts seemed to be in vain. Whatever he did, it was either wrong or not good enough. And simmering underneath it all, was the threat of rape. And, Severus had been trapped in this web as well.

Draco said nothing as he entered the room which had once been his. He bit the fear back, keeping panic at bay. It was a technique he'd been forced to master. Take the emotions and bottle them away. He focused on Severus, who was looking a little better. Draco put the tray on the night stand. There was a sudden bustle downstairs, as Hermione and the children marched in.

“Good morning” Draco told Severus. He didn't turn his head to look to Melchior who was currently shutting the door.

'I'd like to see Severus' they heard Harry tell Melchior from outside the door.

'He needs to come around first. You may wait – downstairs' Melchior replied. It was said in a tone which left little room for debate. As the voices silenced, Draco took it that Potter actually knew when to let it rest. Below, there was soon a cacophony of voices, as the children sang and played loudly while the adults talked. Draco looked at Severus. Severus looked at Draco.

“I .. have a child in my belly!” Severus blurted out, sounding more surprised than he intended.

“So do I” replied Draco, with a heavy sigh.

“This – little thing! It saved me from the dark lord …!”

“I'm so sorry I dragged you into this. I begged him to help you, but had I known that he would put his spawn inside you – !” Draco combed his fingers through his hair, desperate to find the right words. He could not afford to lose Severus' favour as well.

“Draco. I welcome it. It's a miracle. I find myself … madly in love with this – creature! Thank you. You've no idea how much you've helped me.”

Draco fell silent. The lump in his throat kept growing, deeply moved as he was because Severus – of all people – found this situation positive. He reached out an took Severus' hand. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“What am I doing wrong, Severus?” Draco whispered. “Why are they all against me? Not even Melchior approves of me, any more. I cannot – be glad – for whatever it is that I have inside of me.”

“Has he not spoken to you?”

“Who?”

“The child inside you.”

“No” Draco replied faintly. “I – don't think it likes me very much. And Hermione still loves Ron. And Harry wants me dead. And I'm broke. And my parents hate me.”

“In other words, the list is – long.”

“I've begun to wonder why I'm still alive. What is the point, Severus? What's the point of living when no one wants you around?”

“Then you must find something to live for. Or someone. A greater purpose” Severus replied softly. “Thank you. For breakfast. You are a true friend, Draco. You're ten times the man your father was.”

An hour went by. Harry made time pass by entertaining the children and talking to Hermione. Severus finally showed himself, walking slowly down the stairs, step by step and supported by Draco's steady arm. As soon as they made it down, they were attacked by Draco's three children. Harry watched, feeling his heart swell as he watched Severus smile. He raked his memory, trying to remember if he had ever seen more than a sneer on Snape's face. It was an unguarded smile which was directed towards the children – yet it struck Harry deep. With all that he knew, all that he had learned about Severus these past days, the smile was a reflection of a Severus Harry was just beginning to know. A Severus Lily had known well. Then there was Draco. Who now, with his family around him, seemed so much more of a different person than when it was just Harry and Draco. Attentive, warm and radiant, looking admiringly at his wife. Where was the other Draco? The elusive, quiet and cold Draco? The Draco who shunned Harry, who flinched and drew away as soon as Harry opened his mouth?

“How are you, mister Snape?” Hermione asked Severus.

“I've felt better, thank you for asking” Severus replied. They all watched as Draco helped him over to the sofa.

Silence.

“I wish you could have told us. Maybe we could have – !” Hermione began.

“ – and jeopardize everything Dumbledore worked for, for the past fifteen years? I think not.” Severus bit back. Oh yes, there was the old Severus Snape they all knew from Hogwarts, Harry decided. Just because the war had ended, didn't mean Snape was changing overnight.

“You should have told me about Dumbledore” Harry said quietly.

“That wasn't my decision to make. Dumbledore swore me to secrecy. And you have a nasty habit of being at the wrong time and in the wrong place. And – you make a habit of misunderstanding even the simplest of schemes. Your decisions are rash and you jump at conclusions –!”

“ – Severus ..!” Draco scolded Severus mildly. He'd taken a seat on the floor next to Severus, serving as a climbing tree to his children.

“I'm not here to judge you” Harry replied. “Neither is Hermione”. Harry paused and took a deep breath. “You did – what you did – for my mother, and – !”

“ – you could have been mine” Severus suddenly said softly without looking at Harry. The reply got caught in Harry's mouth as it dawned on him just what Severus meant with those words. Severus reached for Draco, who got up. He helped the older man up. “I need some air” Severus told his blond protégée.

The fresh summer air was invigorating. Severus drew in a deep breath, clearing his mind of difficult things. Now, in daylight, he could see his surroundings. The infamous Lighthouse farm. In every wizarding map, this place was mapped as a nest of demons. To his right, towered the lighthouse itself. Raging 52 metres into the sky and coated in impeccable white finish, David and Thomas Stevenson did a great job building it between 1859 and 1862. It was given to Jack Sparrow in 1864 as a gift from Queen Victoria.

Melchior was looking at the Slytherins in the courtyard, from the sitting room window in the main building. He was deep in thought, when a voice caught his attention.

“You don't want him to end up like Peter, do you?”

“No” Melchior replied quietly. "it's why I brought him here in the first place."

“Well, you see where I have ended up. You need to support him as much as you can. And forget about sex. It's not going to happen. You've ruined everything good about it.”

“He fears me. He feels so unloved. By everyone. And now he's with child!”

“That's good, isn't it?”

“No!” Melchior exclaims. “He's alienating him. He feels under siege, and I cannot open my mouth without him taking offence. And that attitude – that defensive strategy of his – makes me want to shake him back into his senses!”

“You mustn't do that. No matter how hopeless it seems, you must not resort to violence. Don't stoop to my level. And you'll have father on your neck as well. He'll take Draco from you.”

Melchior turned to face his brother.

“Oh Malachi, how do you stand it? Living in this house where everything reminds you of Peter?”

“I get by. Sort of. I'm a wreck every evening. I don't sleep. I don't eat. All I do is trudging about here waiting for the next time he reaches out for me. And I've got so much stored up inside now, and he requires so little. I weigh every word I say, I keep my hands to myself and I refrain from speaking about my feelings unless he asks. Which is generally never. The more I step backwards, the more he relaxes. The more I relax, the more he wants me around.”

“I've got my panties in a knot” Melchior replied.

“And the knot gets more complicated every time you attempt to be his master.”

“He opened up to me on the eve of the battle at Hogwarts. He was so scared of losing me, he opened up in panic.”

“That's never a good a thing.”

“How do I make him love our child? How do I make him love me again?”

“I don't think he has stopped loving you. There's always going to be a bond between you. But look at how he's living. He's fresh out of school, didn't even finish it. He's attempting to raise three children. Now there's going to be a fourth. He has his wife to focus on, he has your demands to attend to. There's Potter, whom he obviously fears – ! Then there's the prophecy about him being the dark lord. How is he taking that? How is their economy faring? Supporting so many children takes a lot of resources. Not to mention, do they get any help?”

Melchior slouched down in the sofa. Now that Malachi pointed it all out, it was fairly complicated.

“How do I remedy this? I once promised him I would never take him against his will. I would never treat him harshly again. And where am I?”

“Start over. Woo him. Ask him for permission before you touch him. Let Draco be the one with the power.”

“What's going to happen to Severus?” Harry wanted to know. He had joined them out in the courtyard, and the question was directed towards Draco. I don't know. It's up to my master.”

“The Aurors are going to come for him” Harry continued.

“Let them try”.

“I am fugitive. I'm jeopardizing your family” Severus turned and looked at Draco.

“Don't be ridiculous. The Lighthouse Farm is presently home to five eudaimons. If the aurors come looking for trouble, it's going to be their loss.” Draco glanced up at Severus.

“I cannot expect them to fight on my behalf. Neither do I expect it from you, Draco.”

They watched as Melchior left the main building. Coming across the courtyard, Melchior was looking rather gloomy, Draco thought. Coming over to them, he stopped and addressed Harry.

“Mister Potter. You will soon be approached by the Ministry's agents and they will be wanting to know the location of Severus Snape. Tell them. And then you will also add that Severus will stay here, under my protection until his hearing. Got it?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Now, go away. Severus needs to rest. You can pester him with your presence tomorrow.”

Melchior turned to Severus and said: “As long as you're here, the room is yours. And with it, you have my word that I will enter unless I have your permission. Now come inside, I need to have a conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.”

That couldn't possibly bode well, Draco thought. Hermione was waiting in the doorway, and Draco leapt up the stairs to her, catching her in his arms. They went inside just in time to save the ceramic tea cups on the table as Ivory and Hugo made a team effort to drag down the table cloth with everything on it. Outside, Melchior offered Severus his arm, and accompanied him inside.

Severus was eager to get back to his room. Though he was tired, he could feel him. Alistair. The little creature was back in action, and Severus could feel how the child stretched outwards with its senses, scoping its surroundings, knowing the lighthouse and the sea. The sea. Severus felt a sudden pull towards the great blue. He'd never set his foot on a boat, let alone mastered one. Now, he found himself eager to leap onto the first boat which floated by, and he had no idea why.

“I wanted to talk with both of you regarding your financial situation. You have three children. How are you holding up?” Melchior began after serving both Hermione and Draco tea.

“We're fine” Draco replied after a moment's hesitation. He kept eyeing his cup with a quizzical stare, as if he wondered if it might be poisoned.

“We struggle” Hermione replied frankly and perhaps a little louder than necessary. She sipped from her cup, grateful to be the one who got something served for once.

“It's just been a bad month. It's going to lighten up” Draco continued, glancing at Hermione.

“We're behind on bills every month” Hermione ignored Draco. She looked at Melchior.

“You – promised I would have financial independence” Draco said quietly, eyeing Melchior. “And you have, and how's that working for you?”

“Not good. I need to stay home more and help Hermione” Draco replied even more quietly. “She's struggling to make ends meet with three small ones and all of the house chores.”

“Then I have a proposal. I will assist you, with a financial gift, and I will be at your disposal as – help – for whatever you may need. Be it house cleaning, nappy change or taking out the trash.”

“I'm sure we'll make do with what we ha – !”

“ – thank you. Your help will be very much appreciated” Hermione cut Draco short. She turned her head, eyed him apologetically and took his hand reassuringly.

“And in return?” Draco wanted to know.

“I'm cutting you some slack, that's all. I can see you're having a rough time, and I'd like to help.” Melchior wanted to say more. But he feared it would ruin everything.

“Thank you” Draco replied indifferently. He wanted to feel grateful, but couldn't. He couldn't tell why he was exhausted, why there wasn't an ounce of gratitude left in him. He all of the sudden felt so tired. Like a balloon void of air.

Melchior left him alone for the next week. His master seemed to focus his attention on Severus Snape. It was good to have some time off, to feel for once that there was no pressure. No need to attend and make sure the eudaimon was satisfied. But Draco worried about Severus. Did this mean that Severus was Melchior's new object of desire? Was this eudaimon losing interest in Malfoy? Some child inside the house squealed in obvious dislike of something, and Draco's two minutes of catching his breath was over. He turned and went back into the house. There was a thought in his head. A thought that made sense. He ought to be glad for whatever pauses he could get, so he could focus more on being a father and a good husband. He kept stealing glances at Hermione. He had to be on his best behaviour for her. She deserved that. He reminded himself of the fact that they had been forced into this marriage. She had been forced into it. Draco was going to be grateful for every day he could spend with this family. He ought to be grateful for Melchior's attention for as long as he had it. When it ended – so did probably his life. There was still a death sentence on him. He was living on borrowed time. And as for the child growing in his belly? If Severus could find a way to love his unfinished eudaimon, then perhaps Draco could too? He hoped so much it might turn out to be like Ivory Scorpius. A member of the family, so much like any other child. Where was that boy anyway? Wilhelmina was sitting on the floor, laughing and looking wide-eyed at something in the ceiling. Draco could hear Ivory giggle. But where was the toddler? He swiveled around, and lo and behold, there, in the ceiling – up side down – was little Ivory. His blond hair hung downwards, his face a big smile. Draco had to look twice. He looked around, but Hermione was no where in sight. Draco sighed relieved.

“Ivory Scorpius Sparrow Malfoy, get down from there!” Draco scolded his son gently. He stretched out his arms beckoning the boy to come, but Ivory ignored him flatly and proceeded to move around on hands and knees. In the ceiling. The lamp in the middle of the living room caught his attention, and he headed straight for it. Just then, Hugo made his way into the living room. Now that he'd mastered the art of crawling on hands and knees, speed was the order of the day. Gingerly talking to himself, it was full speed ahead towards the dinner table and a table cloth which intrigued him greatly. In fact, comprehending that the corner hanging down actually could be within his reach, made him crawl so fast he almost tripped on his own hands. He stopped as he discovered a pair of legs wearing jeans. Looking up, he realised it was his father. Draco smiled down at him, then returned his attention to Ivory in the ceiling. Perfect! Full speed ahead and all hands on deck! That table cloth wouldn't stay in place for long.

Hermione was enjoying a moment's peace. Swinging her wand, the laundry came alive and swung itself up on the string. She was outside at the back, overlooking the stretch of sparsely grass-covered land over to Eoropie. The sun was at noon. The air was filled with the scent of sea and a slight breeze played in her hair. She had just drawn in a huge breath, when she hear a loud bang from inside the house, then the noise of glass breaking. Hugo Malfoy!! Draco spoke loudly and scolding. Loud giggle and lots of rummaging around. Hermione smiled to herself, looking to Eoropie. Her moment of peace was obviously over. There was a longing in heart. A nameless longing she was just beginning to acknowledge. And it had something to do with Hogwarts. Turning, she went back inside and shut the back door. Just as she turned the lock, she saw a motion in the ceiling. Since it had a pair of wings , it had to be Ivory. The front door was open, and he was at full speed ahead towards the exit.

“Ivory” she called after him. The toddler stopped, turned his head and looked at his mother. Then he turned his head forward and continued. Hermione took a step, and glass cracked beneath her shoe. She paused to look down. On the floor was a collection of shards from the ceiling lamp, glasses and porcelain trays. Draco was pushing Wilhelmina away, who was curious and eager to taste what glass tasted like. Hugo had seated himself next to a large pool of cold coffee and was eagerly slurping away. Hermione looked to the doorway again. Ivory was gone.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed.

“Oh no? Are you saying things get worse than this?” Draco answered. He balanced on one foot, holding Wilhelmina back with the other while he picked up the table cloth and waved his wand to clear the mess.

“Can Ivory fly? I saw him leave through the front door.”

“But I locked the front door on my way in” Draco replied. “We have to get him.”

Hermione leapt outside and looked around. Ivory was no where in sight. Not on the ground anyway. She gazed upwards and spun around. There! The toddler was heading towards the lighthouse. She went back inside after her broomstick, well aware that Draco wouldn't have bothered since he knew how to fly without one. When she came back out, broom in hand, the toddler was gone. She got up on her broom and took off.

It wasn't funny any more. A strong side-wind had gotten hold of him, and no matter how much he flapped with his little black wings, Ivory couldn't get back on track. With every heartbeat, he got further and further away from the lighthouse farm. Soon, there was no more land beneath him. Just a long stretch of open sea. The mighty, sparkling blue scared him, and he began to sob once the lump in his throat was too big. It was also colder up here. And there was no one in sight.

It felt something akin to a sickening pain in his chest, before Melchior realized it was someone else's fear he was feeling. He pierced the demon in front of him with his spear, hitting the belly area. Gallons of gore spurted out, and he immediately span on his heel, avoiding most of it. He opened a portal right there and then, in the midst of battle, and leapt through. Quite inelegant, he came out on the other side, finding himself to be mid-air. He saw baby Ivory and was so perplexed he forgot to use his wings. Falling downwards very, very fast, Melchior had no time to recover before he plunged down into the sea. Just heartbeats later, he shot up from the sea, drenched to the bone and then some. He swung around ninety degrees and caught up with the crying toddler, catching it in his arms. But Ivory was, firstly, upset and in panic, secondly, he didn't appreciate begin squeezed into someone cold and wet torso. Attack is, and will always be the best defence, so Ivory figured he would use whatever spell came first into mind. And seeing how water is a splendid conductor, Melchior very soon cringed in pain as lightning literally struck him. He fell for a second, before he came out of consciousness. Above him, the winds continued to lead Ivory away. Thanks to the lightning, Hermione caught eye of Ivory. She flew straight to him, hanging on to her broom as best as she could. It was a matter of not looking down. This was her baby – she had to managed. Stiffly, she focused on just reaching him, then she would improvise and see if she could get them back safely. The further she climbed, the more her anxiety of heights paralysed her. A patch of black began to materialise behind Ivory. She could see that the little boy became aware of it, and he struggled to turn to see what it was. If he had been wailing before, he know began to scream – in real fear. And the way he was suddenly being tossed from side to side suggested it was something other than wind. Out of the black blotch grew a face – a human face with beady, red eyes. Where his nose and mouth ought to have been , there was nothing more than a giant jaw. Hermione pulled out her wand and cast expelliarmus without thinking. She nearly hit Ivory, and the realisation almost made her fall off her broom. Then, an armour-clad Melchior shot up from below, putting himself between the black blotch in the sky and Ivory. That was when Hermione took her chance, dived in and caught terrified Ivory. As she descended, she felt the familiar, sickening pull of gravity. Holding on to the toddler, she focused everything in on her willpower, keeping the broom level and descending fairly slowly. Draco was standing on the doorstep, and he relieved her of baby Ivory when they had landed. He was looking up with a trained eye, watching his master fight in the sky. The blotch soon gave up, and disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

“Corselair …!” Draco said through gritted teeth.

At the end of the second week, came the aurors of the Ministry. They were a mere handful, and Harry was one of them. But he was the only one not having raised his wand. Melchior strode out of Port Royal, his house in which Severus rested. Snape remained inside in the hallway. He heeded Melchior's command and stayed in doors. Taking orders from Melchior proved easier than he imagined, especially when the orders coincided with Severus' own wishes. Being transferred into the hands of the aurors for questioning was something he was not ready for. He stood in the doorway, watching them come to a halt at the border of the property. It occurred to him that they could not enter. All except Potter. He could see Draco coming out into the courtyard as well. But Melchior made a gesture suggesting he was ordering Draco back inside. Malfoy did as he was told.

Alistair was ready for fight. He was all geared up, his mind alert and ready, and for the first time, Severus was conscious of the baby's powers which bubbled inside of him like a simmering cauldron. All that power and energy...! The power surge made Severus faint, and he backed away from the door. Supporting himself on the railing of the staircase, he took a deep breath before he showed himself again.

Pratthurst had obviously taken the trouble to be representing the Ministry. Born in the name of nationalism fifty-three years ago, he believed strongly in the law, in the superiority of the Ministry and in justice. He was precisely where he wanted to be in life, and he didn't have to tug hard at his ministerial liaisons to be put in charge of a project like this. No one in their right mind wanted to challenge the eudaimons on their own territory. But Pratthurst thought otherwise. He reached inside his breast pocket and produced a piece of rolled parchment. He took a deep breath, not knowing what to expect. Almost thirty years as an auror had given him a variety of experience. Demons wasn't something new. He was fairly sure he could handle the situation.

“I have here a warrant for the arrest of one Severus Snape, a fugitive from Azkaban. Severus Snape: You wilfully, and by the aid of an unidentified eudaimon, broke out of Azkaban. It is the will of the Ministry that you be brought back to prison pending your hearing, which is set at nine o'clock, Friday next week.” Pratthurst struggled to keep his voice authoritative, as Melchior had taken up his position just metres away. The eudaimon was an impressive sight, with long dark brown curls and inquisitive stare. It was as if those brown eyes – or were they golden? – saw straight through him. They made him shudder, as memories flooded his brains. Memories which were awkward, embarrassing and simply the last thing he ought to have been thinking about. He focused. This was the first tactic of any demon. Bring down their opponent's self-esteem. It was all about faith. One could walk naked into a battle armed with nothing but faith, and still win. Pratthurst disciplined his mind and put up a mental barrier. It worked. Sort of. But Pratthurst could see Snape from the doorway several metres away. He willed his focus over on the man whom the warrant was about. “Snape?!! You need to do the right thing here! You are a Death Eater and a murderer! You broke the law, and you must see this through like a proper gentleman! A true wizard!” Pratthurst swallowed. He got the words out, sounding almost as if he was on the verge of vomiting every time. It was a technique he used in order to focus on speaking instead of having a demon bring him off balance with its mind-games.

“Mister Snape is going nowhere for the time being. He will appear at the hearing where he will answer whatever questions your so-called jury may have. You have my word.” Melchior spun on his heel and headed back to his dwelling.

“I am not leaving, before mister Snape agrees to come with me. This is an official warrant! If he fails to comply, it might only add to the discontent of the council to whom he has to answer!” Pratthurst raised his voice even further: “And the punishment will only get worse!”

That made Melchior turn around. This time, he addressed Harry. “Tell your obnoxious colleague that Snape is not going back to Azkaban. He will not be doing life there for his crimes. He will be spending eternity as a slave and that will be punishment enough.”

“Like Draco, you mean? Are you going to put him through what you put Draco through?” Harry shot back.

“No” Melchior only replied and then turned away again. He proceeded to walk back to Port Royal.

Harry almost held his breath. That arrogant, self-inflated winged bastard! Snape too?! A slave?! Draco – well he sort of deserved it – but Severus?! What was Harry going to do now?! He started off after Melchior. As he passed the Dragon's Lair, he looked for Malfoy but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. How typical! Malfoy wasn't around when he was needed!

Harry reached the front door. Melchior had ventured inside, and he turned as Harry leapt unto the stairs. He made his way past Severus, who – upon seeing Harry – just wanted to shut the door and avoid a confrontation.

“You mustn't go out there, Severus. If you come with them, they'll tear you to shreds.”

“What do you want?” Severus asked, sounding tired.

“You mustn't put up with this either. You spent fifteen years as Voldemort's servant. And now Melchior says you're going to be his slave. For life!”

“Is this true?” Severus asked, turning to face Melchior who had walked into the living room.

“You and I – need to chat – about just that. Something's come up. And you're right in the middle of it” Melchior said, making himself a cup of tea.

“I'd like to hang around” Harry objected.

“I'd prefer it if you don't” Melchior replied. “Why don't you go pester Malfoy for a while, since you're so convinced that a lifetime in slavery is what he deserves. In fact, do go and tell him how you really feel, so he won't have to live in constant confusion because you're so closed-up and hard to read.” Melchior poured a large quantity of sugar into his tea. He was having a bad day. That meant three teaspoons of sugar instead of just one. Harry was at a loss for words. He could hardly form a sound thought. He jumped as Severus suddenly put a comforting hand on his right shoulder. It was a gentle motion, filled with understanding and a little bit of pressure. He looked up into the elder man's eyes. His face was framed by dark locks of hair, and those brown orbs looked down at him with kindness, for once.

“Harry” Severus said, taking the occasion to address Harry in such an informal way his name almost sounded awkward, “as much as I appreciate your support, I must do this alone.”

Harry felt as if he'd lost somehow, as he re-appeared from the house. He walked back to the small group at the fence. Pratthurst eyed his every move. Half-way, Potter turned his direction and walked towards another house standing opposite the house in which Snape was hiding. Disappearing behind the corner of the house, Pratthurst was left to imagine what went on. Harry raised his arm and was about to knock. The air was vivid with smells of cooking. He heard muffled voices from the inside. What was he doing? Was he really about to knock and ask for Draco? Was he really going to tell Draco just what he'd been thinking ten minutes earlier, and which the eudaimon had picked from his mind? Did talking to Draco really matter so much, he'd tell him anything just to able to gaze into those blue orbs?! Draco had saved him. Draco had driven the demon from him just months earlier. Harry lowered his arm and walked away.

Andrea Sparrow volunteered as a baby-sitter whilst Hermione and Draco went over to Melchior. They had been summoned. For an important bit of news and a cup of tea. Andrea had blinked seductively to Hermione and assured her that everything would be all right. The children were in good hands, and if he needed assistance, Christopher was back home from his trip to France. Andrea smiled reassuringly, and Hermione thought for a moment that she saw a trace of Gilderoy Lockhart in him. Andrea was – stunning. He had perfect white teeth, a smile right out of a toothpaste commercial and a set chin. He had the face and the sex appeal of a male super model and the confidence of the Empire State Building. He scooped up Wilhelmina in his strong arms, and she smiled and giggled instantly. Even the littlest of women fell for him. It was time for a light supper before off to bed. Porridge and small bits of bread with jam. Andrea waved the parents off, shut the door and got the children into the kitchen. Picking up one by one and seating them at the table, he spoke loudly but softly and kindly with swift and elegant movements, just like the ladies in the cat-commercials. Soon, three pairs of big, blue eyes followed his every move. He opened up the window. The air in the kitchen was packed. He surfed over to the kitchen cabinet, took out a large bowl, put it on the table and prepared a large chunk of porridge. Then he divided the chunk into three similar portions and served each little bowl with porridge to the children. Oh right. Spoons! Andrea spun around and found three small plastic spoons. He spun on his heel again. He dealt out spoons – only to find that one child was missing. Ivory!

A trail of porridge was all that was left. The boy had gone through the open window, and it dawned on Andrea why the windows had been closed all the time despite the summer air outside.

“So … I'll be right back. Got to go and fetch your – brother – with the wings. Where ever he may be. So just sit tight and enjoy your supper, all right? Hm?!” Andrea didn't wait for any of them to reply. He opened the windows, which folded outwards and leapt outside. The trail ended abruptly. Gazing upwards, Andrea's heart began to pound fast. The initial shock was wearing off, and his wits was slowly beginning to work again. Spinning around, he tried to put himself in the boy's shoes. So, a eudaimon with a love for wind and speed. Where would he go to have a quiet meal? The roof, of course!! Backing away from the house, Andrea stretched his neck and gazed upwards. Yes!! Bulleye! There the toddler was. Happily perched on the edge of the roof, eating his porridge with his fingers. No harm done. Andrea knew where he was so there was nothing to worry about. He hurried back inside and helped the other two with their meals. Things were going smoothly. Babysitting wasn't that hard, Andrea mused. Just then, the empty bowl came tumbling down. It fell down beneath the window. Andrea remained calm, wiped the chins of the children and put them down on the floor. He then climbed out through the window and gazed upwards on the roof which he had done five minutes earlier. No toddler. Taking a moment, Andrea rubbed his palms against his face and decided it was all right to panic.

A loud giggle momentarily lifted the clammy hand of panic which had embraced Andrea's heart. He wasn't about to admit defeat just yet, spun on his feet and homed in on Ivory which was currently looping around some mere ten metres up in the air and to the left. Andrea took off so fast, gravel spat out from beneath the soles of his shoes. Coming to an abrupt halt just beneath the boy, Andrea called him. Softly and lightly, worried the toddler's parents who were in the house in the opposite end of the courtyard might actually hear him. When calling didn't work, Andrea reached up with his hands into the sky. Feeling slightly embarrassed over his own ridiculous behaviour, he looked up into the sky and said: “Dear God, sorry for shouting at the Heavens like this. I just want him to come down. Please don't strike him with lightning or something. He's just a toddler. Ivory?! Ivory, sweet, ridiculous child – come down!”

Ivory only giggled, made another loop and sidled off closer to Port Royal. Oh no! That was where Hermione and Draco were! Andrea skipped sideways, his hands still raised to the sky, afraid that Ivory might suddenly fall. For a moment, he wasn't looking. A handy muddy pond which was left from a light shower of rain during the day, lurked just in front of him. Naturally, Andrea slid and fell on his nose. Normally, he would have gotten up instantly. But between his worries about alerting Ivory's parents and losing sight of Ivory, he remained in the pool, on his belly, listening for voices in between Ivory's frantic giggles. His escapade into the muddy pond made Ivory come closer. The brat was actually descending!! And that made Andrea endure the un-endurable mud! He waited for the opportune moment, and when it came, Andrea got to his feet. But Ivory was quicker. And ascended. Just out of reach. Andrea missed him by less than a fingertip!

“Bloody Christ and all his angels ….!!” Andrea snarled loudly and clawed after Ivory through thin air. High above, out of the blue skies came lightning! And it struck Andrea through his fingertips and down to his toes. Andrea went rigid, trembling from the electric pulse. He fell, like a log, back into the pond.

When his hearing returned, Andrea opened his eyes. The blurry blotch with heaving wings in the air, clapped his hands and laughed. Then it disappeared around the corner. Blond hair, black wings. Blast it!! Malfoy !! It was Ivory and he was on the run! Andrea got up, stiffly and shaking. He couldn't feel his own fingers. He tip-toed awkwardly around the corner, anxious to see if the toddler was around. Yes! The brat had settled!! He was on the ground, picking flowers!! Yes YES YES!!!

Andrea crouched slightly, calling on all of the collective hunting experiences of the Sparrows demons throughout the centuries. He held his breath, his heart pounded fast. He looked slightly crazy, bathed in mud on front as well as back. His eyes were wide open, his nostrils like huge tunnels,mind focused, giving him a wild look. Like an animal fighting for survival. The pulse hammered in his ears. He was just outside the living room windows. Mere metres away sat the toddler's parents. Andrea crouched more, bent his back lower and moved forward, like a guerilla through enemy territory. If he was caught now, everything would be lost. His mission compromised! His reputation as a confident babysitter destroyed forever!!

“Come to Andrea, Ivory. Let's go someplace else and pick more flowers. Like in your mother's garden. What do you say?” Andrea begged. His voice was on the edge now, shrivelled and streaked with panic. Minding a child wasn't supposed to be this hard. Right?!!

Ivory paused and looked at him. He took the flowers in one hand, shook his head and smiled teasingly. One flap with those infernal wings and the boy took off into the air. Andrea had to act. It had to happen now!! He lunged forward, threw himself into the air and stretched out with his arms, reaching for the child. Again, he reached through nothing, got hold of nothing!! Andrea fell hard and almost knocked the wind out his chest. Ivory settled into the middle of the courtyard. Where he picked some pebbles.

“No! Please no, don't eat them! You could choke on them!!” Andrea wailed, fighting for air as he forced his limbs to respond. His lungs hurt. He got up on his feet and ran towards Ivory, afraid the boy would actually go ahead and do it. Andrea stopped for a moment, seeing the aurors at the gate. They were still there. And Pratthurst was observing closely as this muddy and half-witted person walked closer to the child. He was fingering his wand nervously, wondering how to handle the situation. Was that a – mad person – attacking the child? He – or it – looked possibly unhinged, Pratthurst decided. He nevertheless remained calm, only watching as Andrea was finally – finally!!! – able to scoop the child up in his arms and take him inside the Dragon's Lair. He could have wept. He actually had to hold back the tears. The first thing he did, was to tie a belt around Ivory's belly. He tied the end of it to his own belt, before he proceeded to collect children. He got them upstairs. Andrea took off his stained shirt on the bathroom floor and changed their nappies. He felt as if he was in a war zone. This was a real test of manhood. A real challenge, calling on all skills as human and demon in him. Keep it together. They're bound to be back soon!! He pleaded to himself. He put their pyjamas on. Pink to the girl, blue ones to the boy. He arranged water bottles for all three then put them to bed. He sang them a lullaby called 'hey ho and a bottle of rum'. He put soothers in their mouths and watched them fall asleep. He checked ivory's window several times. It was shut. It would stay shut – especially on his watch! When it was crystal clear that Ivory in particular was asleep, Andrea ventured to the bathroom to collect his shirt. Then he realised his situation and took off his clothes. He had himself a long, warm shower, hardly daring to view the scratch in his own pride. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so weary. Coming out, he rinsed himself and put a towel around his waist. He went downstairs, lay on the couch and fell asleep, dreaming about lightning.

Next Friday, nine o'clock.

The hearing was packed with people of different relevance. In the middle, high in his seat, sat Kingsley Shacklebolt, dressed in ministerial robes. He eyed Snape with a grave face. The spectators were, according to tradition, divided into half. Dressed in black, they sat on either side of the Minister's high seat. On each side, below, sat a row wearing purple robes. As Severus entered before this crowd, the spectators, which were mostly civilians and journalists, had filled up the seats on the rear. Prior to entering, Melchior had offered Severus his hand very much in the same way as Dumbledore had offered his to Harry, when they had been Apparating. It was a formal, elegant manner which suggested that Melchior was the one in charge, making Severus his protégé. Normally, Severus would have rejected this offer, believing he belonged to only himself. But in this situation, there could be no mistakes. If he went in there alone, they would eat him raw. If he went in there with Melchior, Severus would be confirming to the world that he was in deed the eudaimon's slave. And he wondered how that would affect his social status in the long run, when comparing himself to the fate of Draco Malfoy. The moment he set foot through the door, he wanted to turn around. He could not get himself to face them. There was virtually an air of hostility, and flash bulbs exploded worst than fireworks.

You're not alone, Daddy.

Severus took a deep breath and eyed Melchior. Melchior responded, giving his protégé time to get used to the environment. He allowed Melchior to guide him to the chair which was centred in Courtroom Ten. It was the very same chair in which Harry Potter had been sitting in, years before. He tried to check his emotions. He withdrew his hand from Melchior's arm, and the eudaimon nodded gently at him. He sat down. Looking to his right, he found Harry Potter seated, together with Ronald, Neville, Luna and Hermione Granger Malfoy. Things couldn't possibly get any worse. Harry was dressed up, all tie knot and hair combed neatly. For once he looked decent, looking all too much like James. Harry eyed him with a serious face. He was expectant, his heels hammering the floor in obvious anticipation.

Kingsley cleared his voice and called the spectators to order.

"Severus Snape" Kingsley Shacklebolt pronounced. "You have been summoned before the court today to give an account of your actions and to answer to the charges against you. The charges are the following: That you with full intent murdered Albus Dumbledore. That you wilfully betrayed the Order of the Phoenix by leaking information directly to the dark lord. You are also charged with high treason against the wizarding society of Britain by knowingly smuggling a demon into Azkaban with the intent of starting a full scale rebellion and aid a mass breakout." Kingsley Shacklebolt made a short pause to inhale some air. He swallowed, glanced at his notes before addressing Severus again. "Your case – as well as your present situation – has divided the members of the council concerning your charges" Shacklebolt continued. He was leaning slightly forward, obviously aiming to address Severus in an almost personal tone. And it occurred to Snape that it was difficult for Shacklebolt to be sitting there, acting all impersonal about someone who he had been working close with for so many years. He could almost read it in the minister's face. The battle within. Snape had betrayed them. He had betrayed the order. They'd never been friends, hardly colleagues, but they had been burning for the same cause. They had been discussing strategies passionately. Then the shock when it was known that Severus was the one who had killed Albus Dumbledore. “In light of the gravity of your actions as a known Death Eater, you do not get a counsellor for defence.”

Kingsley took another deep breath. "We shall begin with the murder charges concerning Albus Dumbledore." Kingsley leafed through some papers, before he continued. "Testimonies from Mister Harry Potter, Mister Ronald Weasley and Mister Neville Longbottom, who were present during the murder, all agree on the fact that it was you who – instead of coming to Dumbledore's aid – executed him in the dungeon below Malfoy Manor. Did you kill Albus Dumbledore?"

The courtroom went silent. Severus swallowed. Those were memories he'd long since buried. Memories accompanied with feelings he did not want to look at. What would Alistair think of him if – !!

I already know, Daddy. I know all you.

Severus clenched his jaws together and forced himself to think. This would take a leap of faith. If Alistair knew, and still loved him ... then, then Severus had nothing to lose. Right?! He glanced quickly at the eudaimon.

I will not let them touch you, bearer of my offspring.

"Yes. I took the life of Albus Dumbledore." Severus swallowed.

"Why did you not attempt to rescue him?"

"A year prior to his capture by the dark lord, he was poisoned. Dumbledore made me swear I would – end – his life before the poison reached his heart. During that year, he was weakened considerably. By the time he was captured by Lord Voldemort, he was weak. And when I visited him in the dungeon, he told me to perform the killing curse. He did not wish to undergo more torture by Voldemort."

"Why was he tortured?"

"The dark lord wanted to know the location of the Elder Wand, and the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy."

"So you're saying that you performed a – mercy kill? You did Dumbledore a favour?"

"I carried out his plan. Ever since he was poisoned, he knew he had lost his personal battle against the dark lord. If Mister Potter was to be able to succeed with finding the missing horcruxes, he had to be given more time. Without the location of the Elder Wand, Lord Voldemort was searching blindly and therefore focusing his efforts on the wand, instead of finding and annihilating Harry Potter. In the meantime, I would carry out my promise to Albus, and do my best to protect the students of Hogwarts."

"So Dumbledore knew that you had switched sides? It was a part of his plan?"

Lily Evans came to mind for a minute. It had never been Dumbledore's plan alone. His plans had coincided with Severus' need for revenge. For recompense. Severus could almost see her sitting next to Harry on the witness bench.

"Yes" Severus lied. The child in his belly said nothing. He also glanced at Melchior, who also remained silent. He let the lie slide between his fingers.

"It was at first, Mister Harry Potter who made the accusation against you, claiming you to be the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. A few weeks ago, Mister Potter withdrew the accusation against you. He has been seen at the Light House Farm, which is notorious for being a demon nest, visiting you in person. Might I inquire after what you two talked about?"

"Amongst other things, we talked about Albus Dumbledore and my collaboration with him over the years."

"And you -- obviously -- pleaded your innocence, I presume?"

"No. I have no regrets. Mister Potter came to me for answers of a personal nature. I ... answered."

"You mean to say that you have no sense of remorse whatsoever for the murder of Albus Dumbledore?"

"Considering the circumstances we both were in, it was imperative that Mister Potter and his friends believed me to be a traitor to the Order of the Phoenix. It was imperative to Dumbledore's plan that I remained in the circle closest to Voldemort. Dumbledore asked me to cast the killing curse upon him. I granted him that wish. My conscience remains clean."

This was the point where several of the council members no longer could check their curiosity. They stood at once, then sat down again, firing questions at him.
"Was there an understanding between the eudaimon and professor Dumbledore?"

"I wouldn't know" Severus replied, sounding more put off than he liked. It seemed like a hundred years ago. But yes, Dumbledore and the eudaimon had been speaking at one point. Severus pressed his lips together in a thin line. It was almost the truth. How could he tell them that Melchior had been talking to Dumbledore, advising him to carry out the original plan all though he had been healed by the eudaimon? His thoughts went to Alistair for comfort. And the child responded immediately.

I'm here for you, Daddy. I won't let these gits bug you!

Perhaps that was it, Severus mused. Eyeing these people as ignorant gits. But that would bring him down to Lucius Malfoy's level. No. Keep it straight. Alistair could be the childish one, but Severus had to be responsible. He wanted a future in which he would have a life. With his son. Together. He wondered how many more lies the eudaimon would tolerate from him.

They're not really lies. They're more like ... leaving out certain parts of the truth!

Oh come now, offspring...!

Severus glanced at Melchior slightly annoyed. Focusing and answering properly to the council's questions were hard enough. The last thing Severus needed, was a mental discussion between Melchior and Alistair inside Severus' head!
"Witness accounts provided by Mister Potter, Mister Weasley and Mrs. Granger Malfoy, suggest that you chose to turn on the dark lord in the boathouse below Hogwarts. True?"

"No I didn't." A gasp went through the crowd. Flash bulbs crackled.

"Do explain, Mister Snape" Shacklebolt leaned forward.

"The Dark Lord summoned me to boat house, where he confronted me with his assumptions concerning the true master of the Elder Wand. He assumed it was me."

"Was it ... you?"

"Yes" Severus answered.

"According to the testimonies, you attacked the dark lord."

"No, I didn't."

"Mister Potter himself saw the dark lord with a deep and fatal cut to the throat."

"That was a wound which was intended for me" Severus answered quietly. Closing his eyes, he could still picture Voldemort's face, in total disbelief as the wound opening up, blood gushing out. The unmistakable question in his eyes: Why have you betrayed me?! You -- of all people Severus Snape. I – trusted you!!

"Who dealt him the wound?" the council member clad in red demanded.

"When he lashed out with his wand, the curse was reflected upon himself. I did nothing. It was – it was ...!"

It was me, me, me, whohoo yay!! Alistair shouted merrily in his mind.

"It was the demon within you" the council member concluded, loud and clear for everyone to hear. She didn't anything close to merry. "What happened next?"

"The ... dark lord was in shock. In disbelief. He ordered his pet snake to attack me. The snake attacked, and bounced off a shield." Severus kept his voice low. More and more council members were leaning forward, eager to hear his confession. A few more inches now, and they would be lifting their behinds up from the chairs and they'd fall over themselves. Literally.

"Who created the shield?"

"The – the child."

"The demon within you? Right?" The council member, a woman with age in her face and grey hair in an elaborate fashion, spoke loud and sternly. Instead of conclusive, her tone of voice was beginning to sound more in the manner of accusative. The unspoken remained in suspense as she took a deep breath before she continued: "Were you aware that you were possessed by a demon when you faced the dark lord in the boathouse?"

"No" Severus replied.

"Thinking back, can you pinpoint the exact time when you might have been – possessed?"

"I was – never – possessed."

"According to the Azkaban records, the Demonometer went off the charts, rating golden. That's unheard of unless we're speaking of an eudaimon. And you openly admitted to being his servant" Kingsley Shacklebolt interrupted. "You also admitted that you have his offspring inside of you. Wouldn't that be the same as being possessed?"

"I did not respond to the Demonometer the way possessed people usually do. I have my own mind, my actions are my own. Therefore I am not possessed."

"Did you summon the eudaimon to aid you in the battle against Voldemort?"

"No, I did not."

"Why did he come to you, then?"

"He claimed it was time he protected me."

"How was it done?" another council member wanted to know. "What manner of dark ritual was performed?"

The question brought back memories of sweaty bodies embracing, of flesh pounding against flesh. Of a dream-like state of half-dark and candlelight. The delight of penetration and lust. The sweet, subsiding pain morphing into ecstasy ..! A sudden and fierce pain in his belly. A sense of being drugged but alert at the same time!

Go, Daddy, go daddy! Alistair cheered inside him.

Oh shut up! Those are – experiences and memories -- you ought not to be able to access. You're just a ...! You're not even born! Severus thought in response, rolling his eyes.

"I wouldn't know how to answer that" Severus sighed as he replied to the court.

"Have you been targeted by the eudaimon? Are you set for execution for your crimes?" another council member wanted to know. Flash bulb. Quills scribbling hard over parchment and in note books. Ink wells running dry rapidly. Every reporter now had their beady eyes directed towards Snape, every ear was listening.

"Not that I'm aware of" Severus replied dryly, almost out of earshot of the reporters.

"How do you – respond – now that you know you're carrying the spawn of a eudaimon? how does it make you feel?"

He's my dad!! Back off! He's mine, all mine!! How dare they call me that? What is that?! Spawn? Some sort of animal?!

Easy now, son. As long as Melchior is here, they won't touch you.

"Did the eudaimon come to you before or after Dumbledore's death?" a council member asked.

"After" Severus replied, this time a little louder. "He approached me in March. And the ... conception ... took place that first night."

"That first night? Were there ...other... nights?"

Damn.

"He ... uhm, came to my bed every night... for a forth-night."

Silence. Quills writing ceaselessly, scraping boldly against paper surface. Breaths holding in fear of losing more juicy details.

"Are you his lover?"

"I am his servant."

"Are you his slave?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"So" Shacklebolt suddenly interrupted, "you would be a part of Voldemort's circle by day, and then you would be with ... the eudaimon at night?"

"Yes".

"What did you two talk about during these nightly encounters? Did you make plans?"

"We ... didn't talk much."

"But he came to you."

"He didn't come to chat. He came for ... other things." More scribbling. more silence. The council member ignored his remark and carried on. The journalists had by now a delightful taste of big fat headlines on the tip of their tongues.

"Surely, at some point you would have -- if you were staying loyal to Dumbledore's plan – have tried to sway the eudaimon to help you take down Lord Voldemort?"

"I was more concerned with not having my cover blown."

"So you never tried to recruit him?"

"No."

“Wouldn't it have been logical to try to recruit him?”

“Perhaps.”

Shacklebolt stopped asking questions. At this point, his previous experiences when discussing with Snape during meetings in the Order, suggested that when Snape began to answer with one words, then it was a lost cause. He paused, took a sip from a glass of water before he continued. He needed to change the subject and see if he could bring Severus around to be more cooperative.

"You arrived at Azkaban not knowing you carried a demon?"

"I had no idea".

"Must have been a shock?"

"Yes it was" Severus admitted.

"Now that time has passed somewhat, how do you feel about it?"

"I'm fine with it" Severus replied quietly, feeling uneasy. The word feel was always difficult.

"Are you aware that you're bearing a spawn of a royal bloodline?"

"No" Severus replied. He was unable to mask his surprise.

"A prince of Hell. An heir to a hellish throne. Eudaimons are said to be the most powerful of demons. Having a human body makes them near invincible. Legend has it he can take out 333.000 human soldiers with one blow to the ground beneath his feet. He can master the weather, entice thunderclouds and bring floods. He can bend minds to his will, listen to thoughts and possess other humans. And at his disposal, just because he's a prince, is an army of 666.000 demon soldiers in Hell. Ring a bell?"

"It's a myth" Severus replied dryly. Yes, the information did ring a bell, but he'd never made the connection. Thrown off his guard, Severus Snape frowned. His mind was still processing the word 'royal bloodline' and what that meant. Angels were said to be able to take out 185.000 soldiers. But 333.000? What was Shacklebolt playing at?

"So you're saying that none of that mattered when you were in bed with your eudaimon before the battle at Hogwarts?"

"It didn't come to mind. At all" Severus replied truthfully, still frowning.

"Now that you're aware, do you think it would change your perspective on the spawn inside you?"

"I don't understand the question."

"You are going to be aiding into this world a creature whose nature is fierce and fundamentally sadistic. All prior knowledge concludes that this creature will suck you dry from the inside then claw its way out of you only to continue to heap misery upon wizarding society. It is an uncontrollable on-the-site judge, a bringer of justice whose logic will be difficult to comprehend unless the criminal background of its victim is obvious. And should it feel threatened, it can very well summon an army of demon soldiers. National security, Mister Snape."

Severus glanced at Melchior. He had never viewed the eudaimon that way, but now, in this courtroom context, he could see Shacklebolt's point of view. It did, however make Severus frown. Nothing about Alistair's personality suggested the boy would turn out that way. That he would turn on Severus. Shacklebolt had to be wrong. Severus stood on his feet before he had thought about it twice. Panic, he realized it was called.

"I am done answering all of your questions" he told the courtroom with trembling voice. He eyed Melchior, who saw Severus' reaction. He jumped to his feet and was by Snape's side in the blink of an eye, offering to him his arm. Severus' knees were shaking. Royal bloodline? What was that all about? He needed answers. He didn't want to doubt Alistair's intention, he didn't want that rosy and perfect image of a son whose unconditional love surrounded him, to fall to pieces. Not here, for everyone to see.

"You will sit down, Severus Snape. The court has yet to decide upon your charges and how to judge you” Kingsley Shacklebolt replied.

“Enough!” Melchior retorted, his voice thundering. The courtroom went silent from its cacophony of voices as Severus had risen. A flash of fear flared across Kingsley Shacklebolt's face. Melchior's eyes had gone from a ginger gold to burning red. He was looking everything but pleased. Severus felt a sudden urge to lay his hand on Melchior's arm to see if he could avert total disaster by disarming the eudaimon of his anger. It worked. Melchior calmed down as soon as Severus put his hand timidly on his arm. “I have played fair. I have kept my word and brought you Severus Snape. He has told his story, he has answered your questions truthfully and to the best of his ability so that you might understand. But that's also where it stops. I did not bring him here so you could make a scapegoat out of him. Whether or not he's going to atone for his crimes, is up to me, seeing how he serves me, not the Ministry” Melchior nearly growled. His voice was brimming with restrained anger. It occurred to Severus that the eudaimon was restraining himself for him, no one else.

Severus allowed himself to be guided over to the witness bench, where Melchior courteously waited for him to have a seat before he joined him. The eudaimon was being a complete gentleman towards him, almost treating him like an important lady. Or a spouse. It was a good old fashioned tradition Severus only had seen amongst pure blood couples from old kins. Like the Malfoys.

Walden McNair took the stand. He had been staring at Snape from the moment Snape had entered the room. He was still staring.

“Walden McNair. You face the following charges” Kingsley Shacklebolt began, “you are charged with being a Death Eater. You participated during the first as well as the second wizarding war, and you have been identified by many witnesses as a cruel and inhuman executioner. You have actively and wilfully participated in the deaths of men, women and children. Is there anything you would like to say to the court before you depart to Azkaban for the rest of your life?”

“Oh yes” McNair snarled. “I regret none of my actions. What I have done, I have done because I believe in the dark lord and his vision. He shall come again. This is not the end of it! You've not seen the end of Lord Voldemort. The dark lord will rise again! We both know how, don't we, Snape?! Oh I'll be waiting! And when he returns, I'll be ready. And you – !” McNair snarled, pointing at the members of the council, “ – you will all burn!”

“Order!” Shacklebolt shouted. Everyone's eyes were again directed towards Severus. McNair was removed from the stand. He looked like someone who had lost touch with reality, but Severus knew better. McNair was the sort of man who knew perfectly well was he was doing and saying. This outburst was meant as a warning.

Another Death Eater was brought to the chair centred in the middle. Mustafa Hollytree. His strategy was to tell Shacklebolt and the council members exactly what they wanted to hear. Hollytree had started down the path as a Death Eater. But he had seen how it all would end, and he had pulled out. Going undercover, he had decided to sit this one out. What Voldemort had been about, was madness. And now that Draco Malfoy was going to drag them all under, once again.

“What is your relationship to Draco Malfoy?” Kingsley Shacklebolt asked Mustafa. The black Englishman with African ancestors paused for a second, before he replied: “I know him personally. Used to chat with him frequently when I visited Lucius Malfoy during the past years. Bit of a weird one, if you ask me. Not properly connected to the real world, if you know what I mean.”

Melchior suddenly stood. “You're lying” he told Hollytree. “You do not know him personally, and neither have you spoken as much as a word to him. Lucius Malfoy do not know you and you never visited them at Malfoy Manor.” Melchior sat down again, this time more calm than ever. But he was focused, and obviously committed. The eudaimon was defending his territory.

“Is the eudaimon telling the truth?” Shacklebolt asked Hollytree.

Mustafa Hollytree looked like he'd just walked into a nest of vipers. Now he was standing with both feet in it, realising his mistake. His tongue went dry and there was a sudden pounding in the back of his head. He didn't know how to reply. The eudaimon with the piercing gaze was looking right through him.

“What is your relationship to Severus Snape?” Kingsley Shacklebolt tried. He was leaning forward again, looking as if he was about to fall over his desk and down the couple of metres to the floor. This was a test. This was Hollytree's chance to tell the truth. Hollytree, on the other hand, had begun to sweat heavily. He kept clenching his jaw and he rubbed his palms together in an effort to stay calm. It dawned on Shacklebolt that there was someone in this room with a higher authority than him. And Hollytree obviously feared the eudaimon more than the council.

“I – uh – we've never met. I've … seen him now and then, at Lord Voldemort's side. That's all” Hollytree almost whispered.

“Did Mister Snape appear as a devout servant of the dark lord?”

“Uhm … yes” Hollytree replied. By now, Melchior's piercing gaze had reduced the cocky Hollytree to a shadow of himself. It was fascinating to see how the man's attitude crumbled. Melchior was actively influencing him, digging deep into the recesses of the man's conscience. And Hollytree himself obviously had a hard time accepting what he was forced to see before his mind's eye.

It was exactly what Alistair was doing to Severus. He would surf on Severus' memories and experiences, bringing stuff back that Severus was forced to come to terms with. But was it conscious? Was the child in his belly using him? Manipulating Severus into keeping him until it became too late for Severus to turn him out? Was the love just a sham? Was Alistair turning Severus' emotions against him? The sensation of being trapped, hit him. He pinched the ridge of his nose between his index finger and his thumb to ward off an oncoming headache. Things were beginning to get complicated.
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Dark Lord Rising