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A Tangled Web by xenasquill [Reviews - 2]

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Chapter 2: The Bait is Taken

As soon as he passed the massive, wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts, Severus spun on his heel and Disapparated. He appeared in a small patch of grass in the middle of a square surrounded by rather derelict houses. Looking about him quickly, he ascertained that no Muggles were in sight, and then strode over to Number 12. It was easily recognizable by the distinctive serpent doorknocker on its battered, black front door. Tapping the door once with his wand, he cast the counterspell to undo all the locks and spells that held it shut. After a number of clicks and clacks, Severus heard the chain clatter and the door swung open. He stepped inside swiftly and shut the door behind him.

By the dim light of the old-fashioned gas lamps, Severus made his way silently down the long entrance hallway, careful to avoid the small, rickety table and umbrella stand. His efforts at stealth met with success; the curtained portrait of Mrs. Black remained silent as he swept past it. Reaching the end of the hall, he opened the door before him. The bottom of the staircase was lost in the gloom. Apparently, the master of the house was not in the kitchen. Probably upstairs, drinking, he thought with a sneer.

Severus headed up the stairs to the first floor, passing by the collection of House Elves’ heads mounted on the wall. As he began to ascend the next flight of stairs, he heard Black’s voice from above.

“Curse it, Bucky! I’m sorry, but you must hold still!”

Following the sound of Black’s voice led Severus into the hallway outside the room in which Buckbeak, Black’s pet hippogriff, lived. Looking inside, he saw Black kneeling beside the massive beast, intent on the task of applying a vividly green salve to an ugly gash along the hippogriff’s hind leg. The animal did not seem to appreciate these ministrations; it tossed its head and kicked irritably, causing Black to tumble back to avoid the dangerous-looking hoof.

Severus leaned on the doorjamb, enjoying the sight.

Picking himself up off the floor, Black finally noticed his presence.

“Snivellus!” he exclaimed, flushing darkly. “What are you doing here?”

“Chasing a wild goose of Potter’s,” Severus replied curtly. Drawing his wand, he stepped into the room. “It might help to close the wound up first.”

“Keep away from Bucky!” Black exclaimed.

The great beast hopped on three legs, turning to face Severus, who stopped in his tracks, abruptly grateful that his wand was out. Black stepped up to the beast, a hand caressing the feathers of its massive neck.

“I repeat, why are you here?” Black demanded.

Severus sneered at him. “Potter sent me after you.”

“What nonsense is this?” Black asked angrily.

“The boy was sent a vision by the Dark Lord,” Severus replied levelly, keeping his eyes on Buckbeak. “He believed you had been captured, and was apprehended by Umbridge while trying to use her Floo.”

The beast seemed to be picking up on Black’s hostility; it snapped its beak threateningly, stretching its neck toward Severus. If Black intended his caresses to have a restraining effect on the animal, a supposition Severus was beginning to doubt, they seemed to be having the opposite effect.

“A vision?” Black repeated heatedly. “Weren’t you supposed to stop him having these visions?”

“Success at Occlumency requires, above all, practice,” Severus replied waspishly. “Potter’s inflated notions of himself-”

“Don’t you dare blame Harry!” Sirius said, taking a step towards him and reaching for his wand. The hippogriff limped a step closer as well.

Retreat into the hallway was clearly indicated; he was now within the beast’s reach. However, the thought of retreating before Black and his pet, when he had faced the Dark Lord and his enormous, man-eating snake, rankled. He settled on a compromise - at least he’d take the last word…

Severus stood his ground, his lip curling. “As my assistance with your hippogriff is not wanted, and my assistance with your rescue from the Dark Lord is, sadly, not needed, I have work to do,” he said, then turned on his heel and Disapparated in a swirl of black robes.

After arriving back at the school gates, Severus headed into the Forest, in the direction of a particular glade where magical plants he would need to harvest were he actually to make Veritaserum thrived. As he walked, he summoned a container in which to carry them back.

The shadows in the forest were lengthening when Severus headed back to the castle with a basketful of potion ingredients. As he entered, he glanced into the Great Hall, empty and pristine after the evening meal. Opening the door beside the large marble staircase, he descended into the dungeons and headed for the laboratory. Umbridge would doubtless be keeping Potter in detention into the wee hours of the night. After the interview that Potter had granted the Quibbler, in which he had described the Dark Lord’s return, the woman positively foamed at the mouth about him. Which meant Potter, anyway, would not be disturbing his researches further.

Upon reflection, Severus decided it was a good thing that he had planned to be up late anyway – in the event Potter remained convinced of the danger to Black after his detention, Severus could set him straight. If Potter were unable to find him to learn how he had acted on Potter’s secret messages, he might make another ill-advised attempt at communication with Order headquarters.

With some satisfaction, Severus rekindled the flame under the potion he had left when Draco had fetched him. Since he did have the necessary ingredients, he also started a second cauldron heating, in which to begin the long process of brewing Veritaserum, not that his stores of that potion were actually low, and a kettle of water. He could have some tea with biscuits from a tin he kept on hand for times when he was too deeply involved in work to break for a proper meal.

The new shortcut he was trying, Severus realized some time later, was not working out as he had envisioned. The potion had changed consistency on him unexpectedly. Lost in thought, he wandered over to the shelf where he kept his favorite references. He ran a long, slender finger over their spines until he saw the one he wanted. Lifting it off the shelf, he sat down on a stool beside the workbench and started leafing through the book, looking for the article he remembered. He had scribbled a page of notes, when he heard a tentative knock on the door. Checking his watch, he saw it was quite late.

He set his book down and walked over. Opening the door, he beheld not Potter, as he had half expected, but the snub-nosed face of Pansy Parkinson, the fifth year Slytherin prefect. She had no business out of the dormitory this far past curfew. The slightly fearful, slightly worried look on that face suggested she was well aware of this, and of the unpleasant consequences that might follow.

“Professor Snape?” she began hesitantly.

“Yes, Miss Parkinson?” Severus inquired quietly, raising an eyebrow. “What is it that you are doing here at this hour?”

“Sir? I was worried about Draco,” she said softly.

“How so?” Severus asked somewhat sharply. Draco had been with Umbridge. What was there to worry about?

“He and some others are missing,” she said in a tremulous voice. “Nott and Blaise are down in the Common Room, but Draco, along with Crabbe and Goyle, haven’t been seen since before supper. Neither has Millicent,” Miss Parkinson explained.

“I see. You were right to come to me, Miss Parkinson,” Severus replied smoothly. What the devil was the woman thinking, keeping his students so late? Keeping Potter in detention after finding him in her office, he could see, but his Slytherins? He returned to the workbench and turned down the flames under the cauldron of Veritaserum.

“So, you’ll look for them?” Pansy asked.

“Miss Parkinson, I know where they may be found,” Severus told her. “I suggest you return to the dormitory. They should be back shortly,” he added as he swept past her into the corridor.

For a moment she looked like she might argue the point, but she thought better of it.

“Yes, Professor Snape,” she agreed. He watched for a moment as she headed off towards the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, then left for Umbridge’s office.

Once there, he knocked briskly on the door.

“Come in!” he heard.

None of the voices on the other side of the door sounded at all like the girlish tones of the High Inquisitor. Puzzled, Severus grabbed the handle and realized that the door was locked. His instincts told him that something was wrong. Drawing his wand, he blew the door open, not wishing to deal with the variety of security spells Umbridge had doubtless ordered to be placed on her office. If she was indeed inside, he might regret his haste, but he would have bet that neither she, nor Potter, were there any longer.

Inside, in various states of hexedness and disrepair, were the members of the Inquisitorial Squad. With a quick Finite Incantatem, he banished most of the spells. The exception proved to be the trademark hex of Miss Weasley, to which Malfoy has fallen victim. A second wave of his wand eliminated that problem as well. Goyle, he saw, was lying motionless on the floor behind Umbridge’s desk. Severus dropped to his knees beside him.

“What happened to him?” he asked, looking up at Draco, the student most likely to provide a cogent account of the evening’s events.

“Longbottom’s Impediment Jinx threw him against the wall, and one of those big plates landed on his head,” Draco explained.

Severus regarded the heavy shards of the plate, decorated with a maudlin depiction of a wide-eyed kitten, with disfavor. Reassured that it was safe to move the boy, he cast a quick Rennervate to bring him to. The falling plate had left a gash on his forehead, he saw. Goyle might be dizzy for a while.

“Crabbe!” Severus ordered. “Take Goyle to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey should have a look at his head.” Though privately, Severus doubted any damage could penetrate that thick skull.

Crabbe helped his friend up as Severus rose to his feet. He saw that Draco had retrieved everyone’s wands while he had tended to Goyle, and gave Crabbe and Goyle theirs before they left. Severus ran a critical eye over the rest, before deciding they all looked well enough.

“Alright, back to the dormitory, the rest of you,” Severus ordered. “Miss Bulstrode, if you would, let Miss Parkinson know that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle have been found as well. Draco, stay for a moment.”

Draco’s fair skin flushed, with embarrassment at the predicament in which Severus had found him, Severus presumed.

“So, Draco, what happened here after I left?” Severus asked. “Where are Umbridge and the other students?”

“Professor Umbridge was angry. She threatened Potter,” he said.

“Threatened?” Severus asked quietly.

“With the Cruciatus Curse,” Draco said.

Severus did not care for the slightly regretful look Draco gave him as he named the curse, though it did reassure him that Umbridge had not carried out her threat. He very much doubted Malfoy would speak so casually of it, had he actually seen it performed.

“And?” Severus prompted.

“Granger begged her not to,” Draco recounted. “She confessed that Potter and the others had been trying to contact Dumbledore, to let him know they were done making some sort of weapon for him.”

“I see,” Severus said neutrally. There was assuredly no such weapon at Hogwarts. Miss Granger, it seemed, had employed her talent for prevarication. Not that Professor Umbridge was a particularly difficult mark.

“Then Professor Umbridge made her and Potter go and show her the weapon,” Draco said, “and ordered us to stay here and guard the others.”

“And where did Miss Granger lead Professor Umbridge?” Severus asked.

“I saw them walking towards the forest,” Draco said.

“And shortly thereafter the other four disarmed you all and followed?” Severus guessed.

Draco nodded, his head hanging.

“Thank you, Draco. That will be all. Miss Parkinson is waiting for you in the Common Room, I feel sure,” Severus said, heading out the door.

“Sir, will you be going after them?” Draco asked, falling into step beside him.

“I am certainly not going to permit six students to wander about in the Forbidden Forest at night,” Severus retorted.

“They may have attacked Professor Umbridge, sir,” Draco said carefully.

“I have drawn the same conclusion, Draco,” Severus agreed. He had reached the Entrance Hall. Answering the unspoken concern implicit in Draco’s remark, he added with some asperity, “I am not Professor Umbridge.”

Draco swallowed, but essayed one more question.

“Sir, I did some thinking while-you know,” he began.

“Yes?” Severus asked sharply, impatient to leave. It was now completely clear to him that his first priority must be to alert the Order to the possibility that Potter had left for the Ministry. He had been missing for hours, quite possibly without the supervision of Dolores Umbridge. The Dark Lord had made his move to lure Potter to the Hall of Prophecy tonight. If the Order appeared there, it would badly dent, if not blow, Severus’s cover as a spy. Potter could be arriving there right now, though, right into the waiting arms of Death Eaters. It was a necessary risk.

“About what Potter shouted at you, just as you left the office,” Draco added.

“Indeed?” Severus said neutrally. He would have greatly preferred that Draco not figure out the clue, but since he was bringing it up, perhaps Severus could try to turn it to his advantage.

“Padfoot. That’s the Grim. A large black dog,” Draco said meaningfully.

“Clever, Draco,” Severus said, interrupting before Draco could complete his thought. “Very clever. I, on the other hand, have no idea what Potter was babbling about,” Severus continued. His voice dripped with sarcasm as he added, with a meaningful look at Draco, “As I shall most regretfully explain to Dumbledore, in the unlikely event the question ever arises.”

Malfoy gave him a long look, and nodded his head in satisfaction.

“Back to the dormitory, then, Draco,” Severus said briskly.

“Yes, sir,” Draco said. “Good night, Professor.”

“Good night, Draco,” Severus said, heading out of the castle. Under cover of darkness, Severus made his way directly and at top speed to the gates and the limits of the school’s Anti-Apparition wards. Potter could already be in mortal danger, and with the limited information he had, it was possible that every second mattered.

A Tangled Web by xenasquill [Reviews - 2]

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