Fic: Darkly Dreaming: Prologue, R (1/6)
While checking into LJ for other purposes, I remembered this story!
Admittedly, I'm posting this with even more trepidation than usual. Because I have yet to finish any WIPs, the plan was to finish this one before posting. A bit over five years later, it continues to sit on the shelf. While no promises can be made on whether or not it will find an ending, I finally figured it would be of more use posted than not.
Title: Darkly Dreaming, Prologue
Author: firefly_quill
Rating: Hopefully something like a R by the end of it.
Pairing: RL/SS
Chapter Word Count: 2,400 or so.
Warnings: Thoughts of suicide.
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. All things Sandman belong to Neil Gaiman. I apologize profusely to both for the mundane plot and awkward dialogue that I've inflicted upon their characters.
Summary: Post-HBP, but DH does not exist. Voldemort is presumed dead. Severus is imprisoned in Azkaban. Remus wants him out, but so does someone else.
Notes: You don't have to have read The Sandman to understand this story, although it is helpful to note that the character here is Dream personified in a way. He creates and controls all dreams and nightmares. Also, while I stole the title from the Dexter series, I've neither read nor seen it, and have not alluded to it in any way in this story (it seems really neat though!). Also also, a nice member of the community helped in editing the first few chapters, but I have since forgotten this person's LJ name. Please contact me if you're reading this, so that I can thank you properly again, and apologize for disappearing for...5 years!
It was dark. Of course, that is an absurd observation, as even those who'd never set foot in Azkaban would not picture it otherwise. It was all that one might expect: a place that swallowed anything good and light purely with the mention of its name, and Severus found himself its guest.
He never considered marking the days into the molding walls using the stray shards of limestone like previous inhabitants (the only indication that there were any), as he was a prudent man. Counting the days one escapes death in a place like hell was no victory, after all. He had decided long before the Dark Lord's fall that victory was to be achieved in one way and one way only were the Order to forget its most loyal spy, and so from the moment he entered his cell, he refused to eat. While trays of food were periodically shoved through a flap in the door, which became Severus' only indicator of time, and a hand did arrive to carry the tray away, no one seemed to mind that it had been left untouched. It wasn't the most dignified way to die, but Severus had always thought slashing to be a messy business and hanging involved too much bruising. Also, the twitching was unbecoming.
He felt certain that it was close now, although what he was close to, he did not know. His senses seemed to have lost their edge, making the world seem like a distant echo.
It was then that he heard the voice.
"Severus Snape."
Severus looked up abruptly. A man in a long black coat stood solidly in his cell. If he squinted, the dark fabric looked to be made of a million swirling forms, or perhaps, a finely spinning black mist of infinite depths. The man's hair was black and wild against his starkly pale skin, which was illuminated by a pair of glowing eyes. There was something profoundly different about him that set his presence apart from the dreariness of the room which his colouring matched so well: something like hope.
Severus frowned. "You are not Death."
"No," the figure replied, "I am Death's younger brother."
"Ahh," Severus' jaw relaxed slightly in understanding. "So I am dreaming."
"No. But I see you know me."
Severus' lip curled. "I know your sister better."
The figure at the other end of the room took a step closer. The moon that delicately filtered through the small, barred window cast long shadows across his face, but he might have been smiling. "I imagine. I have heard much of you from her."
"Likewise," Severus narrowed his eyes. "For instance, you are not known to pay social calls. What do you want?"
His guest was unfazed by the change in subject.
"I require your help, Severus Snape."
Severus tilted his head slightly in inquiry.
"The one you called the Dark Lord, the one called Lord Voldemort, is not dead."
Severus grimaced at the proclamation, but nodded.
"The mark on my arm has told me so much."
"His presence is disturbing my world, as you must know," Dream regarded Severus intently.
Severus shrugged nonchalantly. "Take from me what you will," He let his head fall back to touch the wall and closed his eyes.
"I would have your help, not your submission." The jagged shadows cast on his visitor's face seemed to deepen. "That which must be accomplished cannot be done while you and your name are in chains."
"And so you've come to free me," Severus concluded in amusement.
"Is there one who might speak on your behalf?"
Severus looked down to meet his gaze.
"There might be one."
--
"How many times must I repeat, Severus Snape was acting on behalf of the Order-"
"And how many times must I repeat, Mr. Lupin, that while I appreciate your enthusiasm, granting a pardon to Severus Snape would-"
"-Involve admitting to the public that your office fucked up royally, but free an innocent man who has been ill-used beyond belief-"
"It was WAR, Mr. Lupin. We all make our sacrifices."
"Great sacrifices were made behind your desk in your office, I'm sure Scrimgeour."
"I will NOT have my role in the defeat of the Dark Lord so triviali-"
"Gentlemen."
The two men turned to meet the eyes of a red-faced Madam Pomfrey like two boys with their hands caught in a cookie jar.
"Might I remind you that this is an infirmary," she hissed hotly. "And that were Mr. Potter to wake, he would be understandably much disturbed by the topic of this conversation."
"My apologies, madam," Scrimgeour bowed stiffly, "I must be off in any event. You will, of course, contact my office the moment Harry awakes?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded tersely.
"Good day to you both then," The Minister of Magic gave Remus one parting glare before he walked briskly from the room. The matron turned her attention to the remaining visitor.
"I know, I'm sorry, Poppy," Remus spoke first, putting his hands up and offering her a smile that was both guilty and tired. "But that they would hide evidence given by Albus' portrait just so that they can avoid admitting their error-"
Poppy's eyes softened. "Give it time, Remus. Everyone is doing all that they can."
This only elicited a greater frown. "I'm not sure if he has any more time for us to waste."
"We can only hope that all will be well, I think," Pomfrey walked over to check Harry's condition with a few quick spells. "But it was hope that got us through a second war, wasn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Remus smiled tightly again. "I'll stay to watch him a bit longer. You must have others to tend to."
Madam Pomfrey nodded, and placed her hand reassuringly on Remus' shoulder on her way out.
Remus leaned forward to rest his head in his hands as soon as the door clicked close. Although Madam Pomfrey assured them that Harry was simply sleeping, no one knew when, or if, he would awake. He had been moved from St. Mungo's to the Hogwarts infirmary after the mediwizards and witches complained that the throngs of visitors arriving daily to pay homage to the Boy Who Lived were severely inhibiting their ability to work. Hermione had remarked heatedly that Harry was being treated more like a monument than a human being, and had therefore suggested visiting rights be restricted.
And then there was Severus. Remus inadvertently groaned in frustration, picturing the last time they had met on the day of the final battle. Remus and the other members of the Order had been attempting to clear a path to Voldemort when a stinging hex hit Remus squarely in the chest, knocking him off his feet. A masked figure appeared moments later, wand aimed at his throat.
--
"Sectumsempra!" A voice intoned steadily from behind. The Death Eater arched backwards, shrieking in pain. Remus knew that spell as clearly as he knew the voice. Moments later, a hand reached down to pull him up. Remus could make out Severus' eyes from behind the mask. There seemed to be a thousand words held in that gaze, none of which Remus heard, for almost immediately, the former Potions Master had broken away.
As Remus watched, Severus ran towards Harry and grabbed his hand. Harry had simply nodded and allowed himself to be dragged across the field, as Severus shot away all opposing Death Eaters, who were themselves taken by surprise as they were attacked by one of their own. Harry had made his way to Voldemort, and the rest was history.
--
But what was he to make of that? The man was always enigmatic at the best of times. Remus' hopeless attraction to him did not make answers any easier to find.
"Remus Lupin, I presume?"
The voice startled Remus out of his thoughts. The man who stood across him now was cloistered in a long, black cloak, which only drew greater attention to his porcelain skin. Remus couldn't help but compare his colouring to Severus.
"I'm sorry, but I don’t believe that we've met," Remus said politely, not betraying the fact that his fingers were now tightly wrapped around his wand.
"You will not need that. I mean neither you nor the boy any harm," The figure's eyes lowered to fix on where Remus' hand was hidden behind his cloak, but continued to stand unmoving in front of the farthest wall. "I am here on behalf of Severus Snape."
Remus started slightly at the name.
"I have need of services that he can only provide unbound and am here to find means of freeing him."
Remus could feel his heart pick up pace in his chest. Something told him that this man -no, not a man- did indeed have the power to help. "Which is why you sought me," Remus concluded.
The tall figure shook his head. "It is why I seek the boy. His words have power."
"He's unable to speak at the moment," Remus observed bluntly. His hand had not loosened from his wand.
"Then perhaps it is time for him to wake. Excuse me," The figure flickered a bit before disappearing completely.
Before Remus could raise any alarm or wonder at how the anti-apparation wards had failed, Harry sat up with a small cry, heaving for air as though just woken from a nightmare.
"Call Scrimgeour," he managed between gasps before Remus could speak. "We need to talk."
--
Two hours later, the entire upper echelon of the Ministry was scrambling to release news of Severus Snape's innocence, and indeed, his heroic role in the fall of Lord Voldemort. Journalists were gathered hastily to press conferences as new evidence was revealed, having been brought to light by the efforts of the Boy who Lived, who in his young wisdom, had fought his way out of a deep slumber just to expose the grave injustice done to a man who had done nothing but fight the good fight against the Dark Lord.
Remus meanwhile walked the halls of Azkaban, not sure whether to feel relief or nausea. Harry had somehow convinced the Minister that Severus should be released to his care, although Remus himself could not figure out how this arrangement would help anyone.
"Mr. Lupin?" The guard was staring at him expectantly. The cell door was open in front of him.
"Thank you," Remus said absently. "I'll call you on our way out."
"But-"
"I'm sure he'll be no trouble."
The guard made no further protestations, likely relieved that he wouldn't have to stay in the darkest of halls any longer.
Remus cautiously entered the cell.
"Severus?"
"Lupin," came the rasp of a reply. Severus was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Remus was about to rush to his side when he saw that same flash of luminescence, the starry eyes that seemed to be floating on their own beside the prisoner in the dark room.
"We've been waiting." The dark figure that had been in his room only hours ago was standing beside Severus, observing him equally as intensely as the former Potions Master.
"Would someone care to explain?" Was all Remus could manage.
"I suppose I should," Severus said grimly. "While I would have prefered not to have involved any who might jeopardize what we need to do," he paused knowingly here, so that Remus had enough time to realize exactly who he was talking about. "I've been told it would be easier if I could walk the streets unhindered. And while you are here, you might as well know. The Dark Lord is still alive."
"Impossible!" Remus whispered.
"It is entirely possible," Severus replied sharply. "You recall the last time the Wizarding World thought him dead?"
"But the horcruxes have all been destroyed. I saw Harry defeat him my-"
Severus extended his arm and roughly pulled back the sleeve, revealing the black skull and the snake that coiled restlessly about it. Remus fell silent.
"There is a branch of Dark Magic that is not often used, as it is unstable and unreliable at best. They say that the first incubi and succubi were mortals who gained immortality by giving themselves to this art. Unfortunately for us, it would seem that such magic does indeed work."
"So Voldemort is an incubus?"
"Not precisely," Severus shifted, wincing slightly as he put his weight on his right arm. He leaned more to the left. "Incubi prey on unsuspecting victims in their sleep. Before the last horcrux was destroyed, the Dark Lord gathered those he deemed his most loyal servants, or at least, those who he thought had most to lose were they to betray him. They willingly gave him power over their dreams."
"And how does this involve your guest?" Remus' eyes once again slipped to meet the stranger's. His presence was unsettling despite his familiarity to Severus, or perhaps, because of it.
Severus smirked. "I would have expected even you to recognize the Lord of Dreams, Lupin."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "You mean he's-"
"Yes," Dream answered with a small nod. "That Lord Voldemort has entered my realm so brazenly is troubling. His followers have given him dominion over their dreams, which in turn gives him some power in my domain."
"The Dark Lord discovered shortly before his demise that gods and goddesses were simply dreams that gathered power through ritual and sacrifice," Snape's lips curled in disgust. "The mere thought of him makes too many dunderheads weak in the knees. It would be ridiculously easy for him to ascend once he gathered enough strength."
Remus shuddered at the thought. "How do we stop him?"
"'We'?" Severus raised an eyebrow. Remus returned his stare, undaunted.
"We must enter the dreams of those who keep him and destroy all he has left there," Dream replied. "I can no longer enter directly, but the mark will be a sufficient a portal."
Remus nodded. "Do we know which Death Eaters agreed to the spell?"
Dream extended a hand and Severus accepted it, pulling himself slowly to his feet. Remus' smile dimmed slightly.
"Of course. Of the six candidates, only four survived the war. The first," Severus returned his smile with a twist of his lips. "Is in the next room."
Admittedly, I'm posting this with even more trepidation than usual. Because I have yet to finish any WIPs, the plan was to finish this one before posting. A bit over five years later, it continues to sit on the shelf. While no promises can be made on whether or not it will find an ending, I finally figured it would be of more use posted than not.
Title: Darkly Dreaming, Prologue
Author: firefly_quill
Rating: Hopefully something like a R by the end of it.
Pairing: RL/SS
Chapter Word Count: 2,400 or so.
Warnings: Thoughts of suicide.
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. All things Sandman belong to Neil Gaiman. I apologize profusely to both for the mundane plot and awkward dialogue that I've inflicted upon their characters.
Summary: Post-HBP, but DH does not exist. Voldemort is presumed dead. Severus is imprisoned in Azkaban. Remus wants him out, but so does someone else.
Notes: You don't have to have read The Sandman to understand this story, although it is helpful to note that the character here is Dream personified in a way. He creates and controls all dreams and nightmares. Also, while I stole the title from the Dexter series, I've neither read nor seen it, and have not alluded to it in any way in this story (it seems really neat though!). Also also, a nice member of the community helped in editing the first few chapters, but I have since forgotten this person's LJ name. Please contact me if you're reading this, so that I can thank you properly again, and apologize for disappearing for...5 years!
It was dark. Of course, that is an absurd observation, as even those who'd never set foot in Azkaban would not picture it otherwise. It was all that one might expect: a place that swallowed anything good and light purely with the mention of its name, and Severus found himself its guest.
He never considered marking the days into the molding walls using the stray shards of limestone like previous inhabitants (the only indication that there were any), as he was a prudent man. Counting the days one escapes death in a place like hell was no victory, after all. He had decided long before the Dark Lord's fall that victory was to be achieved in one way and one way only were the Order to forget its most loyal spy, and so from the moment he entered his cell, he refused to eat. While trays of food were periodically shoved through a flap in the door, which became Severus' only indicator of time, and a hand did arrive to carry the tray away, no one seemed to mind that it had been left untouched. It wasn't the most dignified way to die, but Severus had always thought slashing to be a messy business and hanging involved too much bruising. Also, the twitching was unbecoming.
He felt certain that it was close now, although what he was close to, he did not know. His senses seemed to have lost their edge, making the world seem like a distant echo.
It was then that he heard the voice.
"Severus Snape."
Severus looked up abruptly. A man in a long black coat stood solidly in his cell. If he squinted, the dark fabric looked to be made of a million swirling forms, or perhaps, a finely spinning black mist of infinite depths. The man's hair was black and wild against his starkly pale skin, which was illuminated by a pair of glowing eyes. There was something profoundly different about him that set his presence apart from the dreariness of the room which his colouring matched so well: something like hope.
Severus frowned. "You are not Death."
"No," the figure replied, "I am Death's younger brother."
"Ahh," Severus' jaw relaxed slightly in understanding. "So I am dreaming."
"No. But I see you know me."
Severus' lip curled. "I know your sister better."
The figure at the other end of the room took a step closer. The moon that delicately filtered through the small, barred window cast long shadows across his face, but he might have been smiling. "I imagine. I have heard much of you from her."
"Likewise," Severus narrowed his eyes. "For instance, you are not known to pay social calls. What do you want?"
His guest was unfazed by the change in subject.
"I require your help, Severus Snape."
Severus tilted his head slightly in inquiry.
"The one you called the Dark Lord, the one called Lord Voldemort, is not dead."
Severus grimaced at the proclamation, but nodded.
"The mark on my arm has told me so much."
"His presence is disturbing my world, as you must know," Dream regarded Severus intently.
Severus shrugged nonchalantly. "Take from me what you will," He let his head fall back to touch the wall and closed his eyes.
"I would have your help, not your submission." The jagged shadows cast on his visitor's face seemed to deepen. "That which must be accomplished cannot be done while you and your name are in chains."
"And so you've come to free me," Severus concluded in amusement.
"Is there one who might speak on your behalf?"
Severus looked down to meet his gaze.
"There might be one."
--
"How many times must I repeat, Severus Snape was acting on behalf of the Order-"
"And how many times must I repeat, Mr. Lupin, that while I appreciate your enthusiasm, granting a pardon to Severus Snape would-"
"-Involve admitting to the public that your office fucked up royally, but free an innocent man who has been ill-used beyond belief-"
"It was WAR, Mr. Lupin. We all make our sacrifices."
"Great sacrifices were made behind your desk in your office, I'm sure Scrimgeour."
"I will NOT have my role in the defeat of the Dark Lord so triviali-"
"Gentlemen."
The two men turned to meet the eyes of a red-faced Madam Pomfrey like two boys with their hands caught in a cookie jar.
"Might I remind you that this is an infirmary," she hissed hotly. "And that were Mr. Potter to wake, he would be understandably much disturbed by the topic of this conversation."
"My apologies, madam," Scrimgeour bowed stiffly, "I must be off in any event. You will, of course, contact my office the moment Harry awakes?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded tersely.
"Good day to you both then," The Minister of Magic gave Remus one parting glare before he walked briskly from the room. The matron turned her attention to the remaining visitor.
"I know, I'm sorry, Poppy," Remus spoke first, putting his hands up and offering her a smile that was both guilty and tired. "But that they would hide evidence given by Albus' portrait just so that they can avoid admitting their error-"
Poppy's eyes softened. "Give it time, Remus. Everyone is doing all that they can."
This only elicited a greater frown. "I'm not sure if he has any more time for us to waste."
"We can only hope that all will be well, I think," Pomfrey walked over to check Harry's condition with a few quick spells. "But it was hope that got us through a second war, wasn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Remus smiled tightly again. "I'll stay to watch him a bit longer. You must have others to tend to."
Madam Pomfrey nodded, and placed her hand reassuringly on Remus' shoulder on her way out.
Remus leaned forward to rest his head in his hands as soon as the door clicked close. Although Madam Pomfrey assured them that Harry was simply sleeping, no one knew when, or if, he would awake. He had been moved from St. Mungo's to the Hogwarts infirmary after the mediwizards and witches complained that the throngs of visitors arriving daily to pay homage to the Boy Who Lived were severely inhibiting their ability to work. Hermione had remarked heatedly that Harry was being treated more like a monument than a human being, and had therefore suggested visiting rights be restricted.
And then there was Severus. Remus inadvertently groaned in frustration, picturing the last time they had met on the day of the final battle. Remus and the other members of the Order had been attempting to clear a path to Voldemort when a stinging hex hit Remus squarely in the chest, knocking him off his feet. A masked figure appeared moments later, wand aimed at his throat.
--
"Sectumsempra!" A voice intoned steadily from behind. The Death Eater arched backwards, shrieking in pain. Remus knew that spell as clearly as he knew the voice. Moments later, a hand reached down to pull him up. Remus could make out Severus' eyes from behind the mask. There seemed to be a thousand words held in that gaze, none of which Remus heard, for almost immediately, the former Potions Master had broken away.
As Remus watched, Severus ran towards Harry and grabbed his hand. Harry had simply nodded and allowed himself to be dragged across the field, as Severus shot away all opposing Death Eaters, who were themselves taken by surprise as they were attacked by one of their own. Harry had made his way to Voldemort, and the rest was history.
--
But what was he to make of that? The man was always enigmatic at the best of times. Remus' hopeless attraction to him did not make answers any easier to find.
"Remus Lupin, I presume?"
The voice startled Remus out of his thoughts. The man who stood across him now was cloistered in a long, black cloak, which only drew greater attention to his porcelain skin. Remus couldn't help but compare his colouring to Severus.
"I'm sorry, but I don’t believe that we've met," Remus said politely, not betraying the fact that his fingers were now tightly wrapped around his wand.
"You will not need that. I mean neither you nor the boy any harm," The figure's eyes lowered to fix on where Remus' hand was hidden behind his cloak, but continued to stand unmoving in front of the farthest wall. "I am here on behalf of Severus Snape."
Remus started slightly at the name.
"I have need of services that he can only provide unbound and am here to find means of freeing him."
Remus could feel his heart pick up pace in his chest. Something told him that this man -no, not a man- did indeed have the power to help. "Which is why you sought me," Remus concluded.
The tall figure shook his head. "It is why I seek the boy. His words have power."
"He's unable to speak at the moment," Remus observed bluntly. His hand had not loosened from his wand.
"Then perhaps it is time for him to wake. Excuse me," The figure flickered a bit before disappearing completely.
Before Remus could raise any alarm or wonder at how the anti-apparation wards had failed, Harry sat up with a small cry, heaving for air as though just woken from a nightmare.
"Call Scrimgeour," he managed between gasps before Remus could speak. "We need to talk."
--
Two hours later, the entire upper echelon of the Ministry was scrambling to release news of Severus Snape's innocence, and indeed, his heroic role in the fall of Lord Voldemort. Journalists were gathered hastily to press conferences as new evidence was revealed, having been brought to light by the efforts of the Boy who Lived, who in his young wisdom, had fought his way out of a deep slumber just to expose the grave injustice done to a man who had done nothing but fight the good fight against the Dark Lord.
Remus meanwhile walked the halls of Azkaban, not sure whether to feel relief or nausea. Harry had somehow convinced the Minister that Severus should be released to his care, although Remus himself could not figure out how this arrangement would help anyone.
"Mr. Lupin?" The guard was staring at him expectantly. The cell door was open in front of him.
"Thank you," Remus said absently. "I'll call you on our way out."
"But-"
"I'm sure he'll be no trouble."
The guard made no further protestations, likely relieved that he wouldn't have to stay in the darkest of halls any longer.
Remus cautiously entered the cell.
"Severus?"
"Lupin," came the rasp of a reply. Severus was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Remus was about to rush to his side when he saw that same flash of luminescence, the starry eyes that seemed to be floating on their own beside the prisoner in the dark room.
"We've been waiting." The dark figure that had been in his room only hours ago was standing beside Severus, observing him equally as intensely as the former Potions Master.
"Would someone care to explain?" Was all Remus could manage.
"I suppose I should," Severus said grimly. "While I would have prefered not to have involved any who might jeopardize what we need to do," he paused knowingly here, so that Remus had enough time to realize exactly who he was talking about. "I've been told it would be easier if I could walk the streets unhindered. And while you are here, you might as well know. The Dark Lord is still alive."
"Impossible!" Remus whispered.
"It is entirely possible," Severus replied sharply. "You recall the last time the Wizarding World thought him dead?"
"But the horcruxes have all been destroyed. I saw Harry defeat him my-"
Severus extended his arm and roughly pulled back the sleeve, revealing the black skull and the snake that coiled restlessly about it. Remus fell silent.
"There is a branch of Dark Magic that is not often used, as it is unstable and unreliable at best. They say that the first incubi and succubi were mortals who gained immortality by giving themselves to this art. Unfortunately for us, it would seem that such magic does indeed work."
"So Voldemort is an incubus?"
"Not precisely," Severus shifted, wincing slightly as he put his weight on his right arm. He leaned more to the left. "Incubi prey on unsuspecting victims in their sleep. Before the last horcrux was destroyed, the Dark Lord gathered those he deemed his most loyal servants, or at least, those who he thought had most to lose were they to betray him. They willingly gave him power over their dreams."
"And how does this involve your guest?" Remus' eyes once again slipped to meet the stranger's. His presence was unsettling despite his familiarity to Severus, or perhaps, because of it.
Severus smirked. "I would have expected even you to recognize the Lord of Dreams, Lupin."
Remus raised an eyebrow. "You mean he's-"
"Yes," Dream answered with a small nod. "That Lord Voldemort has entered my realm so brazenly is troubling. His followers have given him dominion over their dreams, which in turn gives him some power in my domain."
"The Dark Lord discovered shortly before his demise that gods and goddesses were simply dreams that gathered power through ritual and sacrifice," Snape's lips curled in disgust. "The mere thought of him makes too many dunderheads weak in the knees. It would be ridiculously easy for him to ascend once he gathered enough strength."
Remus shuddered at the thought. "How do we stop him?"
"'We'?" Severus raised an eyebrow. Remus returned his stare, undaunted.
"We must enter the dreams of those who keep him and destroy all he has left there," Dream replied. "I can no longer enter directly, but the mark will be a sufficient a portal."
Remus nodded. "Do we know which Death Eaters agreed to the spell?"
Dream extended a hand and Severus accepted it, pulling himself slowly to his feet. Remus' smile dimmed slightly.
"Of course. Of the six candidates, only four survived the war. The first," Severus returned his smile with a twist of his lips. "Is in the next room."