(no subject)
Title: Liberation
Author: CrimsonShinigami
Pairing: Severus Snape x Harry Potter - in the far future. Others are possible too.
Part: 8/?
Words: 18016/50000
Summary: After the loss of the Battle for Hogwarts, all of Britain was thrown into slavery to Voldemort's reign. Working as a Captain in the Resistance, Harry Potter has had to learn to live the hard way, as a fugitive - while earnestly fighting to save lives, and deliver liberty through Voldemort's end. But with more Horcruxes to find, the question of disquiet within the ranks of the Resistance, and his rediscovery by the Wizarding world: is it really going to be as easy as he might hope?
That night, they made good headway in the direction of Malfoy Manor; but Harry was naturally distracted, and eager to walk as fast as possible; much to the discomfort of Jules, who had short legs - and Horatio, who was of course a wizard, and had been his entire life; wizards did not, as far as Harry was concerned -unless they were attending Hogwarts; but that was a different matter - get enough exercise: always using the excuse of traveling my broomstick, magical carriage, knight bus or train, or whatever other method could prevent exhausting circumstances to be thrust upon them. Indeed, the only exercise they did receive was in their grand establishments: Harry had no doubt that Malfoy Manor would be grand too.
His immediate problems concerned the fact that Malfoy Manor would certainly be so big, and without proper intelligence he had no way to ensure that he would be able to find his way around: no less in the dark, and without having seen a map before.
He had no choice though. He could either go: risk his life and have the chance; he very great chance of not only having Hermione in Malfoy’s hands, and thus Voldemort’s hands; but he himself too.
He could expect torture: not just short torture, but perhaps years, or the rest of his life suffering… He could expect the same abuse, rape, starvation: but even knowing the risks, Harry could not possibly allow himself to allow his friends to suffer - especially Hermione, who had already been so much. Knowing those risks, but knowing her fate, he would throw himself into the fight like a mother dragon protecting her eggs: he had already lost Hermione once, and he would not do so again.
When morning drew around, and the tired hungry and sore bunch needed something to eat, It was towards three or four am when Harry heard it - distant at first, and then closer - a howl, feral and loud.
On the third howl - this time from a different direction - Jules lifted her head, and addressed Harry, “What was that?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Harry remarked, as cheerfully as he could manage.
Unfortunately for Harry, Jules’ remark had made Horatio pay much more attention; and being a wizard, Horatio was much more aware of the fact that a howl could very well mean werewolves: especially in this region of England where the normal variety were quite extinct.
On the fourth howl, Horatio said: “Nothing to worry about?! Harry, that’s a werewolf howl!”
“Nonsense,” Harry insisted. “Just an owl.”
“That’s not an owl.”
“Right now,” Harry murmured, frustrated, but desperately trying to keep his calm, “They haven’t heard us, or scented us. The moment you start to panic, they will smell you as clear as if you had just rolled in a pile or horse manure and shouted “Here I am” at the top of your damn voice.”
“And then…they’ll go quiet as they get into position to begin the chase,” He added, after a moment. “If we keep quiet, and don’t panic, they won’t even notice us here…unless they happen to cross our tracks, which is very unlikely. So just shut up will you?”
They went quiet, all three of them, and tried desperately not to be afraid, but after a long moment, Jules suddenly realized something, and she moved to tap Harry ever so gently on the shoulder. “Harry…they’ve gone quiet.”
“They…” Harry fell quiet again, and then looked between his two companions. “After the break in the trees, there’s a hill that mounts up to a church at the very top. If you follow the church wall around anticlockwise, you’ll come to a steep slope, with a grate at the bottom of it. You must blow it off, and get inside the hatch. It’s too small for werewolves. Leave it open for me. I’ll run up to the church around the base of the hill, and try and draw them off. “
He handed his wand to Horatio reverently. They won’t start the chase until we start moving. Run as fast as you can and don’t stop: do you understand? Protect Jules.”
“I don’t need protecting,” Jules mumbled, but took a deep breath to ready herself.
“Good luck.” Harry said, nervously, taking a step to his left. “Run.”
And so they all took off - Horatio and Jules together, but Harry alone, running straight into the woods, rather than along the path. He created as much of a noise as he possibly could, crashing and banging, and when he heard sounds of pursuit, he gave up making noise to simply run.
It was dangerous, and terrifying, and vaguely exhilarating; to be running away from death like that. Harry had no true sense of fear, though; there was a sense of power and surety that had come to him with age and experience. Even before Voldemort he had not wavered, but blundered on with both Gryffindor courage and Gryffindor luck.
He dived around one wolf who came up into his path, and kept running, breaking out into the open. He hoped that Horatio and Jules had come out of the woods further down the hill from where he was, but he didn’t spare a moment to glance - just kept circling the hill clockwise.
He could hear the wolves behind him, pursuing; their rasping barks to each other in the light of the moon, and he began to climb the hill, leaping over the church wall without care as to what he crashed into on the other side. He rolled painfully back to his feet and whirled to look in the direction he came, to see a wolf leaping over the wall easily, followed by another.
And then he howled, as loud as he could, and as long, and the wolves stopped and stared at him for a long moment, ears pricked forwards. It only gave him the seconds he needed to get back on his feet. After that he was winding in and out of gravestones again - and his call of distress had of course done what it had been intended for: it had summoned the wolves that had been chasing the others. They blocked his path, quickly, and Harry had to suffer a nasty scratch from getting too close in order to pass them.
He dived over the second wall, and used a lot of his forwards motion to buffer his fall, bouncing off the wall of the steep drop, before he crashed to a stop at the bottom, half hovering over the hole. He looked up, in time to see a black, furry shape with ivory teeth descending towards him, and pushed his legs over the edge, dropping into the pit blindly, and sliding down the entry to land in the safe lobby below with a painful thump.
Inside, Horatio was standing with Harry’s wand lit brightly, both he and Jules looking on in utter fear, just in case it was a wolf who had slipped down the hole.
“Just me…” Harry whispered, painfully pulling himself back up to his feet. “Let’s lock up this door, and get the lights turned on,” he groaned, moving to the exit, and stepping through the airlock without preamble. Beyond the airlock was the control room, and Harry made his way through it, knowing exactly where he was going.
Within a few moments, the whole place was lit up with overhead lights, and Harry’s second destination was to the storeroom, where he, Jules and Horatio simply sat down on the floor amongst the boxes.
Harry was in the midst of unpacking one box full of medical items when Horatio reached over to stop him. “I thought you were bleeding, but you’ve been hiding it from me. Let me see.”
Lifting his arm, Harry allowed Horatio to inspect it with his wand. “A werewolf inflicted wound; but not a bite…you’re lucky, Harry. How close did you allow those wretched beasts to get to you, anyway?”
“Too close,” Harry whispered, morosely, moving to rest his arm on his knee.
“Yes - I can see that. Well…I can heal them as best I can - but it won’t prevent scarring without the right potions too. A magically inflicted wound, you know…” He lowered Harry’s wand, then sighed. “A little Muggle first aid might help too, but there’s no point dealing with bandages and such things when there won’t be any blood.”
“Thank you, Horatio. I forgot that you said you’d been a Mediwizard.”
“You’ve had your mind on other matters, Harry,” Horatio replied, kindly, glancing up briefly to catch Harry’s eyes for a moment, before turning on towards Jules. “Well, how’re the food supplies?”
“Army rations, and such…but really, I’m hungry. I don’t think they’d mind if we took more than a normal ration’s share, don’t you?” As Jules spoke, Horatio began the work on the spells to heal up Harry’s arm.
“No, I don’t think they would. I could eat a box full of rations to myself,” Harry laughed, before glancing back towards Horatio. He could hear him, ever so faintly; though his voice was almost whispered: A song - eerie, and disturbingly familiar.
Harry snatched his arm back before Horatio could finish what he was doing, clutching it to his chest. “That spell…” he whispered, breathlessly.
“Yes?”
“It…Snape used it on me once…I just…”
“Severus Snape?” asked Horatio, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“Well, yes. I…Why?”
“You have to be pure of intention to use the spell, that’s all,” Horatio said, waving his hand. “As I recall, Snape killed Dumbledore. That doesn’t sound much like pure intentions to me.”
“It wasn’t. He was a murderer.” Harry snapped, bluntly - though he was beginning to have doubts, even as he sat here, his eyes unable to fix on Horatio, because he did not truly believe the words he was saying.
Horatio obviously realized it was a sore subject, because he gave Harry a long moment, and then changed the subject. “Can I finish healing your arm now?”
Sighing, Harry pushed out his arm, and with his other hand, dug into the ration kit that Jules handed over to him without further preamble.
“Wow,” he mumbled, “I never thought these things could taste so good.”
“Amazing isn’t it?” said Jules, who was on her second tray. “They always taste better on an empty stomach.”
Author: CrimsonShinigami
Pairing: Severus Snape x Harry Potter - in the far future. Others are possible too.
Part: 8/?
Words: 18016/50000
Summary: After the loss of the Battle for Hogwarts, all of Britain was thrown into slavery to Voldemort's reign. Working as a Captain in the Resistance, Harry Potter has had to learn to live the hard way, as a fugitive - while earnestly fighting to save lives, and deliver liberty through Voldemort's end. But with more Horcruxes to find, the question of disquiet within the ranks of the Resistance, and his rediscovery by the Wizarding world: is it really going to be as easy as he might hope?
That night, they made good headway in the direction of Malfoy Manor; but Harry was naturally distracted, and eager to walk as fast as possible; much to the discomfort of Jules, who had short legs - and Horatio, who was of course a wizard, and had been his entire life; wizards did not, as far as Harry was concerned -unless they were attending Hogwarts; but that was a different matter - get enough exercise: always using the excuse of traveling my broomstick, magical carriage, knight bus or train, or whatever other method could prevent exhausting circumstances to be thrust upon them. Indeed, the only exercise they did receive was in their grand establishments: Harry had no doubt that Malfoy Manor would be grand too.
His immediate problems concerned the fact that Malfoy Manor would certainly be so big, and without proper intelligence he had no way to ensure that he would be able to find his way around: no less in the dark, and without having seen a map before.
He had no choice though. He could either go: risk his life and have the chance; he very great chance of not only having Hermione in Malfoy’s hands, and thus Voldemort’s hands; but he himself too.
He could expect torture: not just short torture, but perhaps years, or the rest of his life suffering… He could expect the same abuse, rape, starvation: but even knowing the risks, Harry could not possibly allow himself to allow his friends to suffer - especially Hermione, who had already been so much. Knowing those risks, but knowing her fate, he would throw himself into the fight like a mother dragon protecting her eggs: he had already lost Hermione once, and he would not do so again.
When morning drew around, and the tired hungry and sore bunch needed something to eat, It was towards three or four am when Harry heard it - distant at first, and then closer - a howl, feral and loud.
On the third howl - this time from a different direction - Jules lifted her head, and addressed Harry, “What was that?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Harry remarked, as cheerfully as he could manage.
Unfortunately for Harry, Jules’ remark had made Horatio pay much more attention; and being a wizard, Horatio was much more aware of the fact that a howl could very well mean werewolves: especially in this region of England where the normal variety were quite extinct.
On the fourth howl, Horatio said: “Nothing to worry about?! Harry, that’s a werewolf howl!”
“Nonsense,” Harry insisted. “Just an owl.”
“That’s not an owl.”
“Right now,” Harry murmured, frustrated, but desperately trying to keep his calm, “They haven’t heard us, or scented us. The moment you start to panic, they will smell you as clear as if you had just rolled in a pile or horse manure and shouted “Here I am” at the top of your damn voice.”
“And then…they’ll go quiet as they get into position to begin the chase,” He added, after a moment. “If we keep quiet, and don’t panic, they won’t even notice us here…unless they happen to cross our tracks, which is very unlikely. So just shut up will you?”
They went quiet, all three of them, and tried desperately not to be afraid, but after a long moment, Jules suddenly realized something, and she moved to tap Harry ever so gently on the shoulder. “Harry…they’ve gone quiet.”
“They…” Harry fell quiet again, and then looked between his two companions. “After the break in the trees, there’s a hill that mounts up to a church at the very top. If you follow the church wall around anticlockwise, you’ll come to a steep slope, with a grate at the bottom of it. You must blow it off, and get inside the hatch. It’s too small for werewolves. Leave it open for me. I’ll run up to the church around the base of the hill, and try and draw them off. “
He handed his wand to Horatio reverently. They won’t start the chase until we start moving. Run as fast as you can and don’t stop: do you understand? Protect Jules.”
“I don’t need protecting,” Jules mumbled, but took a deep breath to ready herself.
“Good luck.” Harry said, nervously, taking a step to his left. “Run.”
And so they all took off - Horatio and Jules together, but Harry alone, running straight into the woods, rather than along the path. He created as much of a noise as he possibly could, crashing and banging, and when he heard sounds of pursuit, he gave up making noise to simply run.
It was dangerous, and terrifying, and vaguely exhilarating; to be running away from death like that. Harry had no true sense of fear, though; there was a sense of power and surety that had come to him with age and experience. Even before Voldemort he had not wavered, but blundered on with both Gryffindor courage and Gryffindor luck.
He dived around one wolf who came up into his path, and kept running, breaking out into the open. He hoped that Horatio and Jules had come out of the woods further down the hill from where he was, but he didn’t spare a moment to glance - just kept circling the hill clockwise.
He could hear the wolves behind him, pursuing; their rasping barks to each other in the light of the moon, and he began to climb the hill, leaping over the church wall without care as to what he crashed into on the other side. He rolled painfully back to his feet and whirled to look in the direction he came, to see a wolf leaping over the wall easily, followed by another.
And then he howled, as loud as he could, and as long, and the wolves stopped and stared at him for a long moment, ears pricked forwards. It only gave him the seconds he needed to get back on his feet. After that he was winding in and out of gravestones again - and his call of distress had of course done what it had been intended for: it had summoned the wolves that had been chasing the others. They blocked his path, quickly, and Harry had to suffer a nasty scratch from getting too close in order to pass them.
He dived over the second wall, and used a lot of his forwards motion to buffer his fall, bouncing off the wall of the steep drop, before he crashed to a stop at the bottom, half hovering over the hole. He looked up, in time to see a black, furry shape with ivory teeth descending towards him, and pushed his legs over the edge, dropping into the pit blindly, and sliding down the entry to land in the safe lobby below with a painful thump.
Inside, Horatio was standing with Harry’s wand lit brightly, both he and Jules looking on in utter fear, just in case it was a wolf who had slipped down the hole.
“Just me…” Harry whispered, painfully pulling himself back up to his feet. “Let’s lock up this door, and get the lights turned on,” he groaned, moving to the exit, and stepping through the airlock without preamble. Beyond the airlock was the control room, and Harry made his way through it, knowing exactly where he was going.
Within a few moments, the whole place was lit up with overhead lights, and Harry’s second destination was to the storeroom, where he, Jules and Horatio simply sat down on the floor amongst the boxes.
Harry was in the midst of unpacking one box full of medical items when Horatio reached over to stop him. “I thought you were bleeding, but you’ve been hiding it from me. Let me see.”
Lifting his arm, Harry allowed Horatio to inspect it with his wand. “A werewolf inflicted wound; but not a bite…you’re lucky, Harry. How close did you allow those wretched beasts to get to you, anyway?”
“Too close,” Harry whispered, morosely, moving to rest his arm on his knee.
“Yes - I can see that. Well…I can heal them as best I can - but it won’t prevent scarring without the right potions too. A magically inflicted wound, you know…” He lowered Harry’s wand, then sighed. “A little Muggle first aid might help too, but there’s no point dealing with bandages and such things when there won’t be any blood.”
“Thank you, Horatio. I forgot that you said you’d been a Mediwizard.”
“You’ve had your mind on other matters, Harry,” Horatio replied, kindly, glancing up briefly to catch Harry’s eyes for a moment, before turning on towards Jules. “Well, how’re the food supplies?”
“Army rations, and such…but really, I’m hungry. I don’t think they’d mind if we took more than a normal ration’s share, don’t you?” As Jules spoke, Horatio began the work on the spells to heal up Harry’s arm.
“No, I don’t think they would. I could eat a box full of rations to myself,” Harry laughed, before glancing back towards Horatio. He could hear him, ever so faintly; though his voice was almost whispered: A song - eerie, and disturbingly familiar.
Harry snatched his arm back before Horatio could finish what he was doing, clutching it to his chest. “That spell…” he whispered, breathlessly.
“Yes?”
“It…Snape used it on me once…I just…”
“Severus Snape?” asked Horatio, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“Well, yes. I…Why?”
“You have to be pure of intention to use the spell, that’s all,” Horatio said, waving his hand. “As I recall, Snape killed Dumbledore. That doesn’t sound much like pure intentions to me.”
“It wasn’t. He was a murderer.” Harry snapped, bluntly - though he was beginning to have doubts, even as he sat here, his eyes unable to fix on Horatio, because he did not truly believe the words he was saying.
Horatio obviously realized it was a sore subject, because he gave Harry a long moment, and then changed the subject. “Can I finish healing your arm now?”
Sighing, Harry pushed out his arm, and with his other hand, dug into the ration kit that Jules handed over to him without further preamble.
“Wow,” he mumbled, “I never thought these things could taste so good.”
“Amazing isn’t it?” said Jules, who was on her second tray. “They always taste better on an empty stomach.”