Home | Members | Help | Submission Rules | Log In |
Recently Added | Categories | Titles | Completed Fics | Random Fic | Search | Top Fictions
SS-Centric

A Matter of Age by Persephone Lupin [Reviews - 5]

>>

Would you like to submit a review?

Chapter 1: Out of the Fire ...


Voldemort was gone. Though not forever, he was sure of that. The Dark wizard would rise again. However, they might have a few years of peace to lick their wounds and prepare for another war.

There had been so many casualties in the Order, and now the Potters were dead, too. Betrayed by their best friend. At least, the ancient Shielding Magic that he had woven around little Harry had worked. Much better than he had hoped for. Voldemort's Death curse had backfired and rid the world of the monster - temporarily. Hagrid was in charge of the boy right now. He had rescued the orphaned child from the smoldering ruins of Godric's Hollow and brought him to a safe place until he had decided what would become of the last descendant of Godric Gryffindor. There were no living Wizarding relatives, but Lily had a sister somewhere not far from London. It might be a good idea to let Harry grow up as a normal child outside the Wizarding world where he was now a celebrity, the Boy-Who-Lived. He would have to decide soon.

There were many other things to plan and decide, too. Now would be the ideal timing for a major strike against the Death Eaters. All of a sudden bereft of their leader, they would be in a state of confused disorder, and therefore vulnerable. He had to contact their spy to assess the current situation and plan the next steps. The young wizard had warned them about there being a traitor close to the Potters, but, unfortunately, he had never thought Sirius Black capable of treason. His spy had, but given their history of mutual hatred he hadn't listened to the warning. He had erred. A fatal error. It was very much his fault that little Harry had lost his parents tonight. However, there was no time for self-incrimination right now. He had to act.

With a soft 'pop' Albus Dumbledore Disapparated from the site of destruction.


**********************************************


It was in the early morning hours of the first of November when he Apparated inside the small room above the dingy apothecary in Knockturn Alley. The room was swathed in darkness, and there was no sound to hear.

"Lumos," whispered the old wizard, and a faint bluish light emanated from the tip of his wand revealing a small table, a single chair, a shelf with a few books, and a rickety bedstead with nothing but a moth-eaten mattress on it. And a crumpled form lying on the floor in front of the bed.

"Severus!"

Dumbledore hastened over to the fallen man. He was breathing, thank Merlin, but unresponsive. Dumbledore couldn't find any signs of an attack, but the young wizard was pressing his left forearm convulsively to his chest as if in great pain. This would have something to do with his Dark Mark, then.

"Severus, wake up!" He gently shook the former Death Eater by his shoulder. The young man moaned softly, then blinked.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Come, my boy, I'll help you up. What happened?"

"My arm suddenly started to hurt but not like the usual summons. I ... I thought it was burning up. Must have passed out from the pain. It's not that bad now." Severus rose, holding onto Dumbledore's proffered arm. "I have no idea what this would mean, though."

"But I know. Voldemort is gone." The young wizard winced at the dreaded name, then his eyes grew wide as Dumbledore's words sank in.

"Gone? You mean he's truly ... gone?"

"For now, at least. That's why I'm here. We need to talk. But let me have a look at your arm first." Dumbledore made more light and steered Severus towards the single chair. "Would you sit down and push your sleeve up, please?"

The skin around the skull-and-serpent tattoo was raw and riddled with blisters, but the Mark itself was faint and fading away rapidly under the two wizards' perplexed gazes. Dumbledore murmured a quick cooling charm to alleviate the pain.

"It's almost gone," Snape whispered hoarsely, still staring at the last traces of the ugly Mark.

"I guess this is happening to all those who bear the Mark at the moment. They will soon find out why. We better take advantage of their temporary confusion and apprehend as many of them as possible."

"And I am to provide the information about where to find them?"

"I trust you will find a way to gather the necessary intelligence?" Dumbledore gave the dark-haired wizard a sharp glance.

"I will," the young man confirmed, looking straight back into Dumbledore's eyes. "But we better not waste any time. I'll try to make contact straight away."

"I will hear from you soon?" Snape nodded. "Then good luck, Severus. And take care." Dumbledore smiled at the young Slytherin and Disapparated.


TBC









A Matter of Age by Persephone Lupin [Reviews - 5]

>>

Disclaimers
Terms of Use
Credits

Copyright © 2003-2007 Sycophant Hex
All rights reserved