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The Isle of Lewis by Eli [Reviews - 1]


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Translator's note: This story is a translation of the story written in Russian by valley in 2006, so it is not DH compliant. It is a part of the series "Nightmares of the Dark Lord". The original is stored at http://snapetales.com/all.php?fic_id=2238. The translator would like take this chance to thank all the betas - Altea, Merry, Belana, and Eloriana Gatts - for their tremendous help.

Disclaimer: The author does not own any of it. Obviously, neither does the translator.






Let cheer and joy of gatherings past be our light when darkness comes...

Mikhail Isakovsky (In the frontline forest)




Full of dark premonitions, Professor Snape groped his way down the long unlit corridor, exasperated by the miserable shrillness of the door bell. Snape thrust the door open, cutting the bell short, and the muzzle of a gun was jabbed into the forehead of the former spy.

"Have you gone barking mad, Potter?" Snape asked with all the contempt he could muster, and the gun fired.

Abruptly sitting up in his bed, the professor stared at the darkness in horror and gulped for air.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Harry mumbled indistinctly, turning to his other side and stealing the blanket. "So little time left..."


~*~*~*~*~


The snowfall in London immediately prompted the Daily Prophet to run another large article about Voldemort's death. I had just begun to read it in earnest when Hermione confiscated my newspaper, saying that the article was complete rubbish and the death of a single wizard, even the Dark Lord, could not have affected the climate of the whole country. Ron argued back, and I hurried to leave them alone. I hate their bickering.

It was cold in Hogwarts even for December, but with the cheerful mood reigning in the school it was impossible to think about it. I caught the Snitch in the first game with Ravenclaw, and Hermione proclaimed it "a symbol of peace." I did not wish to break my settled routine of lessons and Quidditch practices, which helped me to not think about very unpleasant things. But after two days of carrying a note in my pocket, I sadly realized that there was no other choice. I had received it right in the Great Hall during breakfast from the only person still wanted by the Ministry.


"The body must be buried, or it will never be over.

The Half-Blood Prince"



I knew very well why he chose to sign like that. Git! Did he think me an idiot? And why did he contact me at all? He expected me to bury the body, didn't he?

I fumed for a couple of days but still hesitated to throw the note away. I even questioned Draco Malfoy, which upset me royally.

"What does your father say?"

"He's glad to be home."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"It's like it was the last time..." whispered Draco miserably, throwing a quick look around. "He is alive."

Could Dumbledore have been wrong? Could there be more than seven Horcruxes? Voldemort could've made as many of them as he wished. He might have even created one before his death. Or two, or... but no, it was not possible. I had a gut feeling that there were no more of them.

It was not easy to get an appointment with Scrimgeour, and without Professor McGonagall accompanying me I doubt he would have talked to me. I just told her that it was really important that I meet the Minister, and she didn't ask any questions.

"Why do you delay the burial?"

Clearly, he was surprised by my question, but quickly composed himself and adopted the sweet patronizing countenance he always used with me after I had finally disposed of Voldemort.

"We shall set up a special room at the Ministry, Harry. A mausoleum where the body will be heavily guarded, and..."

"What?!"

Merlin's beard, they were not going to bury him at all...

"You should not worry about it anymore, Harry." Scrimgeour patted me on the shoulder condescendingly. "The Ministry has everything under control."

"He must be buried. Put in the ground."

"No, he must not. The people need to feel that they are safe. Now any wizard will be able to come and make sure that..."

I stopped listening to him. Why did Snape write to me? Did he think that I was the person who had to finish this job?

And how to persuade Scrimgeour?

"Harry, what's the matter?" Professor McGonagall asked me quietly when we left the Minister's office. "Where did you get these funny ideas?"

"I don't like that the corpse is not buried."

"Surely you realize that if the corpse is not guarded, the Death Eaters might try..."

"To resurrect him?"

So that's what Snape wanted!

I should have given his note to the Minister. I stopped, staring in hesitation at the light-coloured walls of the Ministry corridor and thinking that I had better return to the Minister. Then I recalled my talk with scared Malfoy and decided not to hurry.

That evening I told my friends about the note and my visit to Scrimgeour.

"Snape's a crazy traitor," said Ron.

"It's generally believed that corpses should not be preserved," said Hermione doubtfully.

"Muggle prejudices," snorted Ron, and I regretted having told them anything at all.

On the whole, Ron was of the same mind as Professor McGonagall, while Hermione got very distressed. But both agreed that I should show Snape's letter if not to the Minister, then at least to the headmistress.

I can't explain what prevented me from following their advice. Instead, I was pondering whether Malfoy was deceiving me. Draco certainly did not want another resurrection of the Dark Lord. He had suffered enough at the hands of the previous reincarnation, which was now awaiting a personal mausoleum at the Ministry.

Right, I thought, Scrimgeour is an idiot... But the corpse definitely must be guarded...

Still undecided, I went to bed and lay there awake for a long time.

I shouldn't listen to Snape. He is a traitor and murderer. Ron is right. He's just a crazy murderer.

I recalled that Fudge explained away the behaviour of Barty Crouch Jr. by madness and turned on my side.

Standing in the snow up to his knees, Dumbledore held a spade out to me.

"Bury him, Harry, bury him."

"Muggle prejudices," snorted Snape appearing out of nowhere. "Headmaster, I am sure he could not use a spade to save his life. Have you forgotten what a first-rate dunderhead and loafer he's always been?"

"My memory is as good as ever, Severus." Dumbledore shoved the spade into a snowdrift and peered at me compassionately. "Do you really not know how to dig, Harry?"

"Why would you think that?" I felt hurt. "I know how to dig perfectly well! I dig over the Dursleys' garden every year."

"You see, Severus," the headmaster said, turning to Snape, "he knows."

"I have my doubts. There is no garden here, is there?"

They looked around, but, of course, there was no garden. We were standing in a snow-covered forest, and there was not a living soul around. Even the birds were silent.

"He'll kill you," I said loudly to Dumbledore and made to approach them, struggling to get out of the snowdrift.

"Harry, stay where you are!" shouted the headmaster.

"Don't move, Potter!" snarled Snape, whipping out his wand.

I dashed to reach Dumbledore, fell down, and woke up.

What a silly dream...

I got up, put my clothes on without a sound, stuffed the Invisibility Cloak in my pocket, and left for the common room. It was half past three in the morning and beastly cold. I was hungry.

Grumbling, the Fat Lady opened the entrance for me and I headed to the stairs, putting on my Invisibility Cloak. Of course, these days I could always tell Filch to get lost even if I ran into him, but why give Malfoy another excuse to gibe in the Great Hall about the arrogant Boy Who Won? Blast them.

Having had my fill of walking and frozen nearly to death, I was late for breakfast. Ron and Hermione were already at the table, wearing extremely pinched expressions. I saw at once that they'd had another row.

"Harry," whispered Ron, "you've got another letter."

"From whom?" I hadn't caught on immediately why he was whispering, but Hermione tugged me by the robe, and I dropped down on the bench.

"Here it is," Ron thrust a crumpled piece of parchment in my left hand. "We didn't read it. Although..."

"Read it right away," Hermione whispered in my right ear.

I opened the letter.


"What did Scrimgeour tell you?"


"What does he take me for?"

Well, perhaps I was too loud. It got quiet and everyone stared at me. I jumped up and, trying not to run, hurried to the owlery.


"You are a coward, a traitor, and a murderer, and they'll catch you and send you to Azkaban. Because I hate you!"


It was the fourth answer and for the fourth time I burned it with my wand.

Why, why did Scrimgeour free the Death Eaters who attacked us at the Ministry a year and a half ago? Oh, "We cannot detain them," oh, "There is no evidence." I even began to suspect that he was afraid of the Order of the Phoenix more than of those bastards. Of course, all this was their fault. And Snape was with them. Everyone who managed to avoid Azkaban fifteen years ago had succeeded in doing so again, and Bellatrix Lestrange was still on the run. Merlin only knew what really went on. And there was no one to give me advice.

If I reply to him, we'll have a correspondence. If I don't reply, he won't leave me alone. But I can... I'll capture him. If he wants my attention so badly, well, I don't mind.


"Scrimgeour will not bury the corpse.

HP"



I prepared for the meeting thoroughly. To be precise, I came to the Shrieking Shack three hours before the time we had agreed on. If anything went wrong, I would simply kill him. And, unlike him, I had the Invisibility Cloak.

Snape was sleeping in a torn-up chair. Had he spent the night there? I stood there contemplating whether to wake or tie him up first. Did he despise me so much that he didn't take even basic security precautions? Wasn't he afraid I would bring Aurors?

"No," he said and opened his eyes.

Panicked, I sprang back and pointed my wand at him. He couldn't see through the Invisibility Cloak, I knew for sure. He couldn't. So what the hell?!

"Your hood fell down, Potter," he smirked. "Put your wand away. As you can see, I am alone."

"So why are your friends hiding?" I asked him just to make the situation clear.

"Are you confusing me with your father, Potter?"

"You're a traitor and a murderer! I'll turn you in to the Aurors!"

"Potter, do you remember that you were going to kill Sirius Black, being absolutely certain that he was guilty of your parents' deaths?"

I took a breath.

"Pettigrew fooled everyone!"

"That's not what I am asking you. Do you remember or not?"

"Suppose I do."

"And now you wish to kill me."

It seemed like ages since I had hated Sirius. But it was only four years.

"I saw you kill Dumbledore!"

"And many others witnessed Sirius Black kill thirteen people. On the basis of that evidence he was found guilty."

"Don't you dare mention Sirius! You, of all people, were overjoyed when he was sent to Azkaban!"

"I don't deny that. He should have been sent there when he was born."

"Shut up!"

"Since you are here, Potter, sit down."

I didn't move.

"What do you want from me? And I warn you now that I won't believe a word you say. Do you have any plausible explanation for what happened at the Astronomy Tower?"

"That's none of your business, Potter."

"Then what do you want?"

"The corpse must be buried. The Dark Lord can return while it is not in the ground."

"And when it is in the ground, your friends will have a great opportunity to dig it out and resurrect it, right?"

"Does your question really call for an answer?"

"Stop baiting me!"

"After the first time, Dumbledore was very upset by the disappearance of Tom Riddle's body. The Avada Kedavra that bounced off your forehead could not have reduced the body to nothing."

"How dare you mention Dumbledore!"

"Potter, do you really believe that I enjoy talking to you?"

"What do you take me for? Do you expect me to trust you?"

"The headmaster thought that you'd feel it if the Dark Lord disappeared for good. What would you say?"

I felt nothing.

"Show me your Dark Mark."

Silently, he rolled up his left sleeve. The Dark Mark was there, just like the Draco Malfoy's. Faint, but visible.

"And you... can you Apparate to him?"

"No. It was possible only when he called us."

"And you think that if the corpse is buried..."

"Not just buried, Potter. It should be buried in a very specific fashion. You saw his resurrection; his body was not the body of a normal human. Scrimgeour is an idiot not to understand the danger of a body that has no signs of decay a month after death."

"I thought... they'd already embalmed him."

It hadn't occurred to me that the corpse should have already rotted away...

"Just let me ask how exactly you arrived at this brilliant conclusion."

I decided to ignore his rudeness. Surely, he was merely winding me up. Well, I would let him try. I wasn't eleven any more. Not even fifteen.

"I repeat one more time, the body must be buried," he said after a pause.

"And you think that I should do it?"

"It'd be desirable."

Is it what he had meant when he said "buried in a very specific fashion"?

"Fine, I'll bury it."

After all, it wouldn't be impossible to steal the corpse from the Ministry with Ron and Hermione's help and then bury it somewhere in the depths of the Forbidden Forest. If we asked Hagrid to help and show us the most inaccessible places there, no Death Eaters would ever find the grave.

"He'll escape," Snape said quietly in a tone that gave me shivers.

"What do you mean, ‘escape'? Escape where?"

"You killed him on Halloween, again. And it was a new moon."

"So what?"

"He must be buried at a full moon."

Well, we would sort it out. At a full moon? So be it.

And Hermione will find out everything about your machinations here.

"Fine," I said with false indifference. "I'll bury him at a full moon. I just hope he doesn't need an aspen coffin."

"N-no," replied Snape thoughtfully. "Definitely not an aspen one. I think a coffin of holly would be just the thing."

Actually, I was joking. Why did he need a coffin at all? He'd be fine as he was.

"The full moon is in nine days, Potter."

"Scrimgeour won't give the body away."

"Of course he won't."

Suddenly it occurred to me that if it was not an issue for us to steal the corpse from the Ministry, it should be at least as easy for Snape and his mates. But then, what did he want from me?

"The corpse should be buried at a full moon," Snape said dryly and stood up. I tensed involuntarily. "In a place he will not be able to escape. It is best that you bury him, and it is advisable to keep it secret from everybody."

"Do you have a particular place in mind?"

"Yes. It's the only one in England. The Celts used it as a cemetery for a while. Stonehenge. Have you heard about it?"

Of course I had.

"Why there?"

"The magic of life and the magic of death are destroyed there; they pass off into nothingness and can do no more harm to either the living or the dead."

"There are herds of tourists!"

"During the night?"

"And during the night, too."

"Are you a wizard, Potter, or not?"

I decided not to ask him how he had come to know all that. If I believed, just for a moment, that he was telling the truth, I had to take him with me. Not Hermione, but him, the Dark Arts enthusiast who knew how magic could pass off into nothingness. Surely the corpse shouldn't be just buried. "In a very specific fashion" couldn't mean simply digging out a pit. Maybe he should lie with his feet to the north or, conversely, to the south...

After all, I was long used to the fact that Voldemort was my destiny. And Snape, who'd been arguing for six years that I was always sticking my nose into something that was not my concern, who told me during our Occlumency lessons that it was his job, Snape came to me, convinced that it was I who had to bury the corpse.

Very well. Then I'll turn you in to Aurors after we‘re done. They'll find out whether I saw you murdering the only person who trusted you, or if I'm as mistaken as those passers-by who witnessed Sirius killing thirteen Muggles. But don't even hope that I'll trust you blindly.

"Do you really believe that I'll agree to go anywhere with you?"

"You've come here."

"Well... if you swear not to cause me any harm..."

He looked at me with such loathing that I recoiled from him.

"Potter, I swear that I'll make you bury that filthy creature," he hissed with bloodcurdling malice, "even if I have to bury you with him. I fail to see much difference between you."

"I don't care for the opinion of a cowardly murderer!" I spat. "Or do you think I'm more like Voldemort than you? Maybe, it's me who wears the Dark Mark?!"

"Shut up, Potter!"

"You wish!"

We were standing there with our wands pointed at each other, panting. He didn't even try to conceal his hatred for me, and that was just as well, since he wouldn't have been able to, anyway.

He wouldn't give me an oath. No matter, I wasn't afraid of him. I was always stronger. He was just an evil, spiteful failure of a wizard.

Let him just try to attack me. I defeated Voldemort and Snape won't scare me. Dumbledore died not because he was weaker, but because he trusted this bastard. But Snape'll never trick me. I'd rather bite off my own ear than trust him.

The next day I went to Hagrid.

"Are there holly trees in the Forbidden Forest?" I asked him after half an hour of taking tea with him.

"Oh, yeah. Wha' do yeh need ‘em for?"

"Will you show me?"

I'm a lousy carpenter, but whatever. We took the coffin with us to the Ministry, and I hid it behind the fountain. Just in case we met someone. It was the middle of the night, but I wanted to be on the safe side.

Quite unexpectedly, in the corridor we ran into someone, who happened to be Mr. Weasley. I didn't even notice where he came from.

"Harry? What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"

"Half past three?" I asked just to say something.

"Half past three—" He stopped abruptly because at that moment Snape turned round the corner dragging Voldemort's corpse to the staircase.

"Snape!" Mr. Weasley shouted and pushed me aside, rushing forward and pulling out his wand.

For the first time in my life, I Stunned a person in his back. A person very dear to me. And he'll always know that I attacked him.

"Are you stuck there, Potter?"

I couldn't leave him lying there, just couldn't. Nobody knew what was going to happen to us.

"Let's tie him down," I suggested hesitantly.

Snape let Voldemort down so his head fell on the stair with a dull thud.

"Why?"

"Well, just come here!"

Reluctantly, he approached me.

"He'll be found in the morning. Let's go, Potter."

"No, I don't want to leave him like that. Tie him down, I know you can."

He shrugged and, after producing a few black cords with his wand, returned to the corpse of his former master.

"Rennervate!"

"Harry, what are you doing? Are you mad?"

I did not want Snape to hear us, so I waited for him to disappear from sight.

"Harry, let me go!"

"No, I can't. And it'll be better for you this way when it gets out you were here tonight."

"What was Snape dragging with him?"

I wasn't sure that I should explain, and I knew we were in a hurry.

"We... we're taking Voldemort's body."

"Why?"

"Everyone knows that he's not dead for good," I blabbered staring at the floor, "but Scrimgeour will never agree..."

"Harry, what does Snape want with the body? Do you realize what you are doing? The Death Eaters want to resurrect him! Untie me immediately!"

"No, we'll bury the body and it'll finally be over."

"Why do you think he'll let you bury the body?"

"I'll... take the chance. I know about the necromancy."

"What?!"

"I... Hermione told me about it. Snape does not know it himself yet, but we'll bury the body."

"Stop this nonsense! You'll never get the better of him!"

"You think so?" I got an unpleasant feeling in my chest.

He was worried about me. And had forgotten that I killed the wretch who scared everybody so much that they refused to mention his name for twenty years.

"I'm sorry. I should go." I took off my cloak, rolled it up and put it under his head. "Is there anyone else here? Can I just leave you without silencing you?"

He nodded and, without glancing back, I ran to catch up with Snape.

"Why are you dragging him? You could levitate him."

"I shouldn't," he grunted. "I hope you've solved all you moral and ethical problems and will finally help me."

Together we could move faster, and in the Entrance Hall I fetched the coffin hidden behind the fountain. Quietly we put the body inside and fixed the lid. We had to leave that place as soon as possible.




The Isle of Lewis by Eli [Reviews - 1]


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