Login
MuggleNet Fan Fiction
Harry Potter stories written by fans!

The Severed Souls by Magical Maeve

[ - ]   Printer Chapter or Story Table of Contents

- Text Size +
Chapter Eleven.

Toil and Trouble




Voldemort watched the reflection that glared back at him and couldn’t help being satisfied with his unearthly face. It suited him well to present a face so warped by his own degradation that it immediately struck mortal fear into anyone that crossed his path. Of course some of his closer, if closer was the right word, minions were now growing accustomed to his face and could hold a conversation without having to constantly look away. The man who was coming to meet him in half an hour was just such a minion, although Voldemort was beginning to realise that this particular man was overstepping the boundaries of what constituted being an underling.

Severus Snape, on the face of it, had been a faithful servant with a small transgression over the woman. Voldemort had been prepared to allow him that small pleasure in exchange for assurances that he would use her to his advantage when it came to information gathering. The news that Harry Potter would not be returning to school had been useful, but not exclusive. It was the information regarding the little nostalgic daytrip to Godric’s Hollow that had been far more constructive. It had enabled Voldemort to have them followed, to have them watched, and to let them know they were being watched. Parnell, the head of the group he liked to refer to as his princes, had made sure that Potter was aware of their presence on the train and then again when they were following them in the car.

Voldemort would never admit to being worried about Potter, but worried he was. This ridiculous debt to the gods was being chased and he didn’t have enough knowledge to know what their plan of attack was. Sometimes he contemplated having each of that ridiculous trio wiped out individually, rubbed from his life in the time it would take him to order their destruction. But he wasn’t sure about Potter, wasn’t sure what that scar carried with it. His memory of their last encounter was fresh in his mind and he had tasted bitter defeat at the hands of a boy. If this was repeated his followers might get restless, lose confidence and desert him.

Kicking a coal back into the blazing fire he shifted his attention from the mirror to the sleeping snake. She had eaten well that morning and was resting by the heat of the crackling hearth. Voldemort couldn’t remember the last time he had felt real warmth; certainly not since his disembodiment caused by that runt of a child. He had little use for warmth though, in the same way he had little use for anything that couldn’t further his own aims to be the greatest wizard that ever lived.

The tunnels were silent and secluded enough for him to formulate plans and organise attacks. The only person allowed into his inner sanctum now, apart from Snape, was Pettigrew, and even his visits were tiresome. The grubby little man scuttled around his feet, hands up at his face, heaving with subordination.

In this rarefied atmosphere Voldemort was unconsciously laying a path that led to him being vulnerable, but part of his weakness was his self-belief in his own infallibility and he would never allow himself to see that things were not as he wished them to be.

Footsteps echoed down the corridors and he turned to face the entrance to his cavern. Severus strode down the long corridor and finally came into Voldemort’s view. Master and servant watched each other circumspectly before Severus nodded a curt greeting and waited for Voldemort to speak.
Voldemort glowed with annoyance at the change that woman had brought about in the rather ugly man. His eyes were no longer the dead jewels they had been. They burned now, burned with something Voldemort had nothing but contempt for. He was waiting for this ridiculous weakness that people termed love to show itself in Severus’ actions but so far he was as hard and unyielding as he had ever been.

“You have news?” Voldemort hissed.

“The boy is not at Malfoy Manor, if he ever was there,” Severus said with silky conviction. “I think it is likely he has gone to look for his father.”

“His father is dead,” Voldemort said, watching the other man’s eyes carefully.

“Unsurprising.” Severus was swift to accept this new information, adding it to the store of things that he could not, and would not, react to. “Lucius has proved to be improvident in recent years. Perhaps it is well that he should go now without causing you further damage.”

“You think he has done me harm?” Voldemort was quick to sense the scornful note in Severus’ tone.

“I think the catastrophe in the Department of Mysteries was harm enough, don’t you, my lord?”

Voldemort, as always, accepted the accolade of being Severus’ lord with a slight nod of the head. It gave him a feeling of certainty in an ever-changing world to be exposed to such deference.

“It was Lucius’ eventual undoing, that and the problems with Bella last year. But this is not what I wish to discuss.” The atmosphere changed and woke Nagini with its mist of great gravity. “I wish to discuss how we can remove Potter from the equation.”

“With great care,” Severus replied. “Without Dumbledore he may be more guarded, and more determined. I certainly anticipate he will try and kill me the next time our paths regrettably cross.”

“Then you had better make sure you reach for your wand first, hadn’t you, Snape, because it is you that will do the killing. I cannot risk it myself, nor can I risk him being alive any longer. I want Potter dead before he discovers anything, anything at all. His visit to Godric’s Hollow” – the mention of the founder of Gryffindor seemed to cause him pain – “proved fruitless, but we cannot risk him discovering anything.”

“What do you anticipate him discovering?” Severus asked, wondering if the Dark Lord could be provoked into making an overt mention of the Horcruxes.

“It does not concern you,” he snapped back. Severus maintained a dignified silence and allowed the Dark Lord’s flare of anger to die down again. “Perhaps you ought to be anxious also. You were, after all, there that night.”

“I was there only briefly,” Severus said. “There is nothing for me to trouble myself with.”

“The old man is still alive,” Voldemort informed him, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. “And you know why we need concern ourselves with him.”

“There is nothing to fear from Gryps. He has no idea.”

“Then you need to make sure he stays firmly rooted in the dark, don’t you?”

“It is too late for him to discover anything now. If he does he will be unable to use the information.”

“For your sake, I hope so. There were no children, so he is the last.”

“Why have you never removed him yourself?”

“Such impertinence, Snape! I think you forget yourself on occasion. I have my own reasons.” He turned to the fire again, his back to his most faithful servant. “You need to formulate a plan for ridding us of Potter and you need to find that fool Malfoy. Fortunately for him I believe your version of what happened. Bring him to me and we will find him another task for him to redeem himself with. Where has the mother gone? That’s what I’d like to know. She has an ally somewhere to conceal herself so effectively.”

Severus watched the halo of heat from the fire that surrounded the Dark Lord, his face an impassive mask and his eyes concealing the truth.

“She is not without connections, my lord,” he said quietly. “She is, after all, a Black.”

“And what remains of the Black family is loyal to me – so why does she hide and why do they hide her? But this is a trifling matter and one I will not waste my time on. She will reappear and then we shall see what she has to say for herself. I shall greatly enjoy informing her of her husband’s untimely demise.”

“When do you wish me to make contact with you?”

“As soon as you formulate a foolproof plan for disposing of Potter.” Voldemort turned back and gave Severus the beginnings of a twisted smile. “And I did mean to ask – what happened to your wife? I hear she met with an accident?”

It took all of Severus’s self-control to keep his eyes impenetrable.

“Due to circumstances beyond my control, the contact I have with my wife is almost non-existent. As I understand it she met with a Potions mishap.” He looked as if he were about to say something else but stopped himself. It was best to say as little as possible about Maeve to the man who would have liked to see her dead. He was only too aware that he was on considerably unsteady ground with the Dark Lord, at least were his marriage was concerned.

“You know I consider her a weakness.” The threat was clear from his face as he looked at Severus. “She is expendable. It will be interesting to see what you do when that time comes.” He walked across to Severus, only slightly taller than the wizard who met his threat with an empty face and an even emptier mind. “Would you be able to dispatch your own wife, I wonder?”

“The time has not yet come, my lord.”

The laugh that Voldemort gave made Severus’ insides twist with anxiety but he stood firm, waiting for a dismissal. “Then pray, Severus Snape, that when it does, you will not be the one I choose to execute the order. You may go.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Severus turned and strode, with furious steps, out of the labyrinth of tunnels that formed part of the old Rampton estate. His head ached from the secrets he kept and he wished with all his soul that the twisted wizard he had left standing by the roaring fire could be consumed by the flames he stoked.

Emerging into the sun-steeped autumn day he blinked at the brightness of the abrupt light. His list of priorities was getting longer and more pressing, starting with the search for the missing Horcrux, continuing to Draco and ending with trying to make sure his wife was safe given that the one person he thought he could depend upon to watch over her seemed to have disappeared into thin air. With an annoyed intake of breath Severus Disapparated from the fire-ravaged grounds of Rampton Court and reappeared in the one place he had vowed not to seek sanctuary, Rathgael.




Hermione was fast coming to the conclusion that The Daily Prophet was actually quite enjoying the events that dogged both Muggles and wizards during the escalation of the war. She read the headline that screamed with almost indecent glee – Seven Muggles swept of a cliff during a freak gale – and made a disgusted noise. Below the picture of the now empty cliff was a smaller headline that rubbed its hands as it informed the world that Florean Fortescue, purveyor of fine ice cream, had gone missing and his shop had mysteriously caught fire overnight. In smaller print, tucked away in the bottom left of the front page was a picture of a woman that Hermione half recognised but couldn’t place. She had been pledging money to help witches and wizards in distress, according to the tiny report, and would be hosting a gala concert that night at The Rotunda, a wizarding concert hall in Battersea.

Neville watched her as she put the paper down and nibbled at her toast, taking care not to drop crumbs on her uniform.

“Don’t you miss Harry and Ron?” he asked.

“Of course I do,” she said. “But there’s a war, Neville. It’s a small sacrifice when you look at what else is going on in the world.”

“I’ve been thinking…” His thoughts seemed reluctant to manifest themselves though as he hesitated, sipping his water to buy himself some time.

Hermione clicked her teeth and waited for him to get on with it while pushing her own plate away. She had a lot to do that morning and she didn’t want to get bogged down in a heavy conversation with Neville.

“I’ve been wondering if I’m doing the right thing by staying at school.” With the scandalous thought voiced he blushed and choked on another sip of water.

“Do you think you should be doing something else?” she asked, surprised that Neville should be thinking this way.

“I think I should be helping Harry,” he said, putting his glass down and looking at her timidly. “I think this is all a waste of time. You know they’re talking about cancelling exams this year. The examination board lost two of their members in an attack the other day and now there’s doubts about them being able to set papers and stuff.”

“They’ll set the exams,” Hermione said, appalled at the idea that they may not get the chance to sit their N.E.W.T.s. “If they didn’t there would be no point in us being here, would there?”

“I don’t know, Hermione. Maybe they think school’s the safest place for us. I know that I like my lessons but with all these people dying and Gran going on about the glorious fight, I just feel a bit… well… a bit redundant.”

“Don’t even think about giving up school,” Hermione reassured him. “You’ll be in a better position for having finished your education.”

“But Harry and Ron aren’t finishing their education. Padma and Parvati left too…”

“They have a private tutor. Padma wrote and told me that. They’ll still be doing their exams this year.”

“What’s up?” Seamus asked, plonking himself down next to Neville and pinching a slice of his toast.

“Neville is wondering whether it’s worth staying at school this year,” Hermione informed him. “I’ve told him it is.”

“Aye, well you would, wouldn’t you?” Seamus was grinning to take the potential sting out of his words. “Personally, I think it’s the best place for us. Me mam wasn’t happy but I told her no way was I leaving. An’ Dean’s still here and he’s me best mate. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“See, Neville. Stick with it.” Hermione lifted her bag off the back of her chair and stood up. “I have to go. Need to get in some work in the library before classes start. See you both later.”

“Does she have to work so much?” Seamus asked as Hermione dashed from the Great Hall. “She tires me out just watching her.”

Neville was about to reply but Filch sidled past and growled at them to hurry up and get out of the Hall so he could sweep the floors.

“Dirty great footprints all over the place, it’s enough to drive a man mad,” he snarled, bringing his face close to Neville’s and breathing stale breath over the round-faced boy. “Now git!”

Neville and Seamus both hurriedly gathered their things and scurried from the hall. As they rounded a corner Neville collided with Maeve who unfortunately had an armful of books. They cascaded onto the floor and Neville immediately bent down to pick them all up. Filch had come to the door and stood watching them in bitter amusement.

“Always dropping things ain’t you, Professor Snape?” He allowed his tongue to roll lazily over her name, making it sound lewd. “I bet that husband of yours would like to drop a few things right now, like the murderer name tag he has round his scrawny neck.”

“Aw shut up, Filch,” Seamus said. “You don’t scare us anymore. You’re just a wee man with a small mind. Leave us alone.”

Neville didn’t look too convinced about Filch not scaring them anymore and he was rather relieved when the grubby man scuffed his way back into the hall. He had finished gathering up the books and placed them back into Maeve’s arms. Maeve was busy watching the place where Filch had stood with her lips clamped together tightly.

“Professor Snape?” Neville said, bringing her back from her sudden reverie. “Can I see you later?”

“What about, Neville?”

“About staying on at school.”

“Neville’s having a crisis,” Seamus said with a smile.

“Well, if you are thinking about leaving you should really see your Head Of House for careers advice.”

“I know, but Firenze can be a bit vague when you talk to him. You should have been our head-of-house. It would have made life a lot simpler.”

“I was in Ravenclaw, Neville. I doubt I would be an ideal candidate for Gryffindor head-of-house. But you may come and talk to me if you wish. Straight after lessons, my office.” And with that she left the pair of them to while away the half-hour before classes commenced in order to find Roderick.


“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, as she walked into her old classroom and found Roderick suspended from the ceiling by a thin silvery cord. It was tied around his right arm and she detected a hint of pain around his mouth.

“Damned Undoable Knot,” he gasped, nodding to the place where the magical cord had tied itself around his armpit. “Thought I might teach the first years how to undo one and forgot the blasted words.”


Maeve pointed her wand at the silver binding and released him, grimacing as he hit the floor with a thud. “You know, I do wonder how you passed Auror training.”

“We never had to mess around with Undoable Knots,” he groaned, brushing himself down and hurriedly straightening his new robes that he had collected from Hogsmeade the previous day.

“Peacock feathers,” Maeve said as she walked past him. She paused and lifted a section of the vivid plumage, tutted and sat on his desk.

“What’s wrong with peacock feathers?” he asked, looking down. “They’re all the rage in London.”

“This is not London,” she said. “The pupils will find them… entertaining.”

“Hmm… I was going to buy you a set of matching robes for Christmas but I won’t bother now, ungrateful wretch.”

Maeve hadn’t had the chance to spend much time in her old classroom and she looked around now, wondering if all those mirrors were entirely necessary. Roderick was sweet in his own way but he bordered on the narcissistic sometimes and she wondered if, had he been a little less self-absorbed, he would have been a better wizard.

“How are you finding the Slytherins?” she asked, thankful that McGonagall had not seen to give her a house to lead.

“Tedious. No character to them.” He was still looking down at his robe and frowning.

“A lot better in your day, eh? Which must have been all of ten years ago.”

“We did have a certain degree of character.” He looked up. “What can I do for you, anyway? You are normally busy avoiding me. I hope you really are well enough to teach.”

“Yes. I had an owl from a firm called Witherspoone and Thwacker this morning. They appear to be solicitors acting for an unnamed client who is laying a claim to Severus’ house, Darkacre. What should I do?”

“Give it to them. Those houses are more trouble than they are worth. Snape will thank you for it in the long run. You have your cosy little love nest in Ireland so what would you want that rotting husk of a house for?” Roderick sat next to her on the desk and rested his feet on his chair. “I was glad to see the back of Rampton Court.”

“It’s not mine to give away and I’m not just going to hand it over to someone. I just wondered if I should bother Severus with this.” She looked hopefully to him for guidance.

“You mean you are in contact with your fugitive husband? Well, well, Mrs Snape you put me in a very difficult position. As an Auror and upstanding member of this school I really should turn you in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” There was the briefest hint of merriment in his eyes as he spoke and Maeve pulled an impatient face.

“Roderick, the day you do something that your job requires you to do will be the day I give up believing in my husband. Do I respond to the letter or not?”

“Talk to Severus about it. Believe me, Maeve, your marriage will be better without that house. Too many bad memories for both of you, if you ask me.”

“Okay, I’ll have a think about it. You off down to Hogsmeade again tonight?”

“I might be. Want to come?”

“Maybe. I’ll see you at dinner. Have a good day.”

“You sound like a little wife. Do I get a kiss on the cheek?”

“No, you do not,” she said, jumping down from the desk and giving him a poisonous look.

Her robes flaring out indignantly behind her, she left the room to head back to her own classes with the now familiar sinking sensation that denoted another day teaching when there were bigger battles to be fought.

On the way to her classroom she stopped by the owlery and used one of the school owls to send a brief message to Harry about her conversation with the Sorting Hat the previous night. She scribbled her note, wondering what he could do with such trivial information. As the owl soared from the window she watched enviously, wishing she could do the same thing and escape from the confines of the school but she knew that Severus wouldn’t countenance it now that he had her safely tucked away behind Hogwarts’ secure walls. It was one thing to risk her neck in the pursuit of a goal but he had made it clear that he wanted her safe the rest of the time.





Rathgael smelt unused to human company as Severus Apparated into the bedroom. He had used one of the Death Eaters to go ahead and make sure the place was not being watched and it was only when the man had assured him that it was not did he dare visit his home. Ignoring the trappings of his marriage that surrounded him he quickly descended to the ground floor and sent out the message that he hoped would bring the man he had once loathed, and still disliked, to him.

There was wine in the kitchen and Firewhiskey in the small drinks cabinet in the sitting room. He was sorely tempted by these small luxuries of home but he resisted and drew a cup of water from the sputtering tap. He sat down at the well-worn table to wait and was pleased to see he didn’t have to wait long. A small knock announced that his message had reached its destination and he moved to allow Remus to enter the house.

Remus was disconcerted by the arrival of Severus’ Patronus, reminded of his promise to watch Maeve and his subsequent failure to carry out this promise. He waited at the door and winced when the door was slowly opened to reveal Severus’ hard face looking at him with disapproval.

“Come in,” he said, standing aside. Remus entered under his watchful gaze, cringing at the scrutiny, and hurriedly made his way to the kitchen.

“What did you want to see me about?” he asked, placing the ball in Severus’ court.

Severus circled him for a moment, giving them both time to formulate a plan of attack. The kitchen curtains were drawn and little light entered the room, lending a heightened clandestine atmosphere to the meeting.

“I wondered why you made a promise to me and then immediately abandoned it in favour of chasing your own tail down in London.” The harshness made Remus ashamed of his need to get away from Hogwarts. He would have been given the opportunity to stay had he wanted it but instead he had just left.

“Maeve was well protected. She has Roderick Rampton watching her like a hawk. There will be no danger at Hogwarts.”

“No? You have already pulled her from danger once when you brought her from the Temple. Without you she could have died in there.”

“I didn’t pull her free of the Temple,” Remus admitted. “She was already on the grass when I got there.”

Severus looked at him, flint-eyed. “What do you mean, you didn’t pull her free? Who did then?”

“I assumed Harry did it,” Remus replied, looking puzzled. “Who else could it have been?”

“Who else indeed,” Severus said thoughtfully. “Very well, we shall lay that aside for now. I need something more demanding of you now, something that you must do if you value Potter’s life.”

“What has Harry got to do with this?”

“You must persuade Potter to either stay at Grimmauld Place or return to Hogwarts. Under no circumstances must he walk the streets unprotected.” Severus paused for effect and as Remus opened his mouth to speak, continued. “He will be killed if he is allowed to roam free.”

“But Harry knows that there is a chance he could be killed and he’s accepted that. There will be nothing I can do that will change his mind.”

“Do you wish to see him dead, Lupin?”

“I think Harry can cope with whatever Voldemort throws at him.”

Severus narrowed his eyes and stopped his pacing, coming to a halt in front of Remus, who met his stare.

“The Dark Lord has chosen to throw me at him, Lupin. Potter will not succeed in evading me, as well you know.”

Remus felt his throat grow dry and he tried to make sense of what Severus was telling him. “You would not kill Harry to save your own neck, Severus. Even you would not stoop that low.”

“I would not kill Potter to save myself, that much is true. But I would kill him to preserve my unique position and the advantage that gives me in the fight against Voldemort. What is one more boy when both the wizarding world and the Muggle world are at stake?”

Remus felt Severus’ cold calculation rise before him like a brick wall and he knew that he had run headlong into it again. It was the same as the resolute attitude that Severus had shown with Maeve and the Horcrux. He already knew that Severus had the courage to kill Dumbledore so he supposed that Harry would be an altogether easier prospect.

“Why you?” Remus asked.

“Because the Dark Lord is constantly testing me. Killing Dumbledore gave me a great deal of credibility but killing Potter would make my position unassailable. This is why you must make sure that I cannot conceivably get to him.” Severus sat down at the table and rested his head in his hands. “It is a lonely place that I find myself in, Lupin. Perhaps you can understand that.”

“I understand loneliness. But I didn’t bring about my condition. You brought about your own circumstance.”

“Yes, I am not ashamed to admit that. But it is done and we only have one chance of winning now. Aurors and force of arms will not do it. When both sides have the same weapons one must try other means of achieving ones ends.”

“Such as?”

“You will see in time. But you must remove Potter from my path. I also need you to watch Maeve. That was not an idle thing I asked you to do. Rampton cannot be trusted under any circumstances.”

Remus nodded, dreading the return to Hogwarts and wondering what he would tell Maeve. “I will do what I can. I am not sure why I have come to trust you and I hope I don’t find myself regretting it.”

“With your capacity for judging characters I would also be worried, Lupin. You trusted Pettigrew after all…and as for Potter and Black…I think little more needs be said.” Severus tightened his cloak around him, readying himself to leave the sanctuary of his own home. “You may not contact me but I will try to contact you whenever it is possible.”

Remus knew that he could never like this bitter and complicated man, but for now he would have to at least respect his position at the heart of what ailed their world. “I will do my best with Harry, but I can’t promise success. You need to accept that if you do try and kill him, Severus, you will have me, and possibly Maeve, to go through. Will your dedication to your cause extend to harming your wife directly?” And to cut off any possible answer Remus Disapparated from the house, ignoring all social niceties.

Frustration borne of the inability to protect the one thing Severus loved drove him to pick up the nearest thing, which happened to be a small white vase, and throw it across the room, passing through the place where Remus had recently stood. It clattered against the wall and dropped to the floor in a poor imitation of Severus’ own life.





Night was falling ever quicker as the year moved inexorably through autumn, and as Maeve stuck her head out of the small window in what used to be her office she drank deeply of the crisp air that settled into the crannies of the building. She had expected to find Roderick shirking some duty or other but the office was depressingly empty. She flicked idly through some of his textbooks and reflected that this was much like Severus’ office had been: devoid of any personal mementos.

It was just after four o’clock and she had grown so restless that she had decided to accept his offer of a trip into Hogsmeade. Finding he wasn’t here to make an arrangement with, she left his office in a rather more downcast mood than she had entered it. Walking through the empty corridors she had completely forgotten her promised meeting with Neville, concerned only with relieving her intense loneliness. As she dropped down the main staircase into the hallway she was thinking only of the long evening ahead of her and certainly not contemplating the re-arrival of Remus.

In a strange way she accepted his disappearance with a feeling of security. Such was the connection between them that they were able to flit in and out of each other’s lives with little thought for the consequences and this comforted her.

“Maeve.”

Her name, spoken so firmly, was a well-worn and familiar cloak that crept gently across her shoulders

“Remus.” She accepted the cloak with a turn of her head, and a warm acknowledgment of his presence. “You really must break the habit of these abrupt departures; they are far too melodramatic for my taste.”

“We need to talk about Harry,” he said, dismissing the possibility that this was a visit just to see her. “And we need to talk away from Hogwarts.”

They met at the foot of the stairs and it would have been impossible to miss the immense strain of worry that arched across his brow. In the distance normality could be heard: the clatter of a plate on stone, the sound of a student’s laughter, the shout of an enraged Filch as he discovered a transgression, and yet here, in this pocket of the hallway, Maeve knew that Remus carried a weight upon his back that he was straining under.


“Let’s take a walk to Hogsmeade,” she suggested. “We can talk while we walk.”

Remus nodded, dull hair dropping across his forehead as he did so. He held open the great door for her and she walked out to greet the evening that she had so recently been admiring from Roderick’s office. The cloying chill settled on her lungs and made her breath come white and wispy, pleasing her with the promise of closeted nights before the fire.
Autumn dropped and died around them, leaves lilting from the trees on the whisper of wind that blew gently through the Hogwarts’ grounds. It distressed her hair, moving the red strands against her face and making her sweep them aside repeatedly with her hand.

“Your face looks sore still,” he said, wishing he had chosen to walk on the other side of her, where he wouldn’t have to see the fading scar from the Horcrux.

“I can’t feel it now,” she admitted. “It will fade away. Most things fade away eventually.”

“They do indeed,” he reflected. “Some more quickly than others.”

She looked at him with questioning eyes but he smiled and changed the subject. “Harry must return to either Hogwarts or Grimmauld Place, and he has to stay there.”

“Really?” Her feet crunched pleasingly on the gravel that led to the main gates. “And what’s brought this on?”

“I spoke with Severus earlier.” The wince that she tried to disguise at the mention of her husband made Remus recoil, but he continued nevertheless. “He warned me that Harry must be made secure.”

“And where did you hold this cosy tête-à-tête?” She didn’t even try to hide her sadness.

“It doesn’t matter where,” he replied, placing a brotherly hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. “But he gave me an idea of Voldemort’s plans and we have to keep Harry safe.”

“We can’t keep Harry safe, Remus. You know that. All we can do is hope that he doesn’t meet with Death Eaters when he is unprepared.”

“He can’t defeat all the Death Eaters.”

“He’s defeated Voldemort, or at least succeeded in foiling his plans.”

“Voldemort was unaware of what would happen between their wands. Harry will meet his match and we have to prevent that from happening.”

Maeve sensed the undercurrent that ran headlong beneath their conversation. As they reached the closed gates she stopped and turned to him.

“You’re saying something and yet you are not saying something, Remus. Why don’t you tell me what Severus actually said, and why he said it to you and not to me?”

Remus looked at her and wished he had never agreed to the ridiculous plan to become her brother just twelve months ago. He would never have forged this bond with her, might never have even come to know her, and now here he stood, trying to protect her from what her husband could do.

“Severus has been given the task of removing Harry from Voldemort’s path. He has to kill Harry.” Remus looked away from her open face and turned instead to the closed coolness of the fading sky. “He wants Harry somewhere where he cannot get to him, hence Hogwarts or Grimmauld Place.”

“I see,” she said, addressing the stones beneath her feet. The setting sun was gilding the trees with an uplift of gold and she allowed her eyes to stray. So much beauty surrounded her, so much which was natural and wholesome. Why did the touch of humankind have to intrude with its devious plans and intolerable cruelty? “And what else?”


Remus could see her resolve hardening yet again. The touch of warmth that the sun was bestowing on her face made her cheeks glow brightly but his eyes dropped to her neck and the necklace that was ever-present. The scarlet sun lent a rosy glow to the jewel and he was mesmerised for the moment.

“I think you need to accept that Severus is doing his best in terrible circumstances.” The reply was not quite what Maeve was looking for as the gates swung open and allowed them to pass from the security of Hogwarts to the tumbling wilderness that signified the route to Hogsmeade.

“Severus always does his best,” she said in a whipped tone. “But his best sometimes leaves others floundering in his wake.”

“Severus has always left others either floundering or incensed. It’s his personality.” Remus allowed himself a small, wry grin. “But we must persuade Harry to come back. If we don’t the future for both Harry and Severus looks bleak.”

“The future for Severus couldn’t look much bleaker at the moment,” Maeve said. “He is a walking Azkaban resident, if only the Ministry could catch up with him.”

“I hope for all our sakes that they don’t,” Remus muttered, and with those words he crossed a solid boundary that firmly placed him in the opposite camp from those that ran the wizarding world.

They walked on, allowing the burning scents of the season to lure them onwards towards the village of Hogsmeade. Pyres were already being built for the celebration of the birth of Igneus Wiggins, the man who had invented the Incendio Charm, and they passed several heaps of firewood on their walk to Hogsmeade. The village was upon them almost before they knew it, gentle lights starting to flicker on throughout the snug homes in an attempt at keeping the darkness that swelled through the land at bay. Remus allowed himself a glance at the Shrieking Shack as they passed by its rickety walls but Maeve chose to look forward and ignore the scene of her recent battle.

“Where would you like to go?” Remus asked. “We could visit the Three Broomsticks.”

“I’m not in the mood for it, or Madam Rosmerta. Lets go to the Hog’s Head instead.” Maeve nodded towards the dirty, seedy-looking pub that leant out into the street, overhanging the pavement slightly.

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought you’d have liked a place like that. It’s not exactly a palace, you know.”

“I know, but I’m not after a palace tonight. It’s easier to talk without being overheard in there anyway. Madam Rosmerta has ears sharper than any Extendable ones.”

Remus smiled and followed her across the road. “Well, that’s certainly true enough,” he agreed.


The first thing that hit them, as Remus opened the door, was the undeniable stench of goats. Under normal circumstances, Remus would have been a gentleman and allowed Maeve to enter first, but there was no way he was going to send her into this den of iniquity without first having a look himself. He stepped across the threshold onto the sawdust strew floor and realised the smell of goats was even stronger inside than it had been out, dismissing the idea that the odour came from a neighbouring farm.


Several odd-looking individuals were seated in small groups, heads low over stale drinks as they held clandestine conversations. Maeve wrinkled her nose, following Remus to the well-worn bar to order something that wouldn’t turn their insides into lead. Remus turned to her with an apologetic smile, despite the fact that it was she who had insisted n this venue.

“What would you like?” he asked.

“Something bottled,” she replied, looking at the thick crust that covered the pump delivering the beer.

“Butterbeer?”

“It will do… or perhaps we could share a bottle of wine. That red looks okay.” She nodded towards a clumsy pyramid of jewel-coloured bottles that adorned the back of the bar.

“Go and grab a seat” – Remus looked doubtfully round the bar – “and I’ll bring it across.”

“I may just grab a seat and run,” she said, only half-joking. She made her way past several leering wizards, one of whom tried to grab at her robes, and finally found a small snug that faced the fire and had its back to the rest of the room. The smell of goats was at its strongest here and she cast a small Aromensia Perfectis charm to try and clear the air but it only helped subdue the smell slightly.

Remus approached with a dust-shrouded bottle and two equally filthy glasses. A quick Scourgify sorted that problem out and Remus had the cork popped and the wine poured before Maeve could even protest at the filth.

“So,” he began, “how do we get Harry back to Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know, Remus, really. Unless we concoct something about the Horcruxes. But he has to find the Horcruxes and he can’t do that at Hogwarts.” She sipped the wine and pretended it was palatable.

“Is Harry really the one doing the finding?”

“Not at the moment…but Harry needs to be …Well…Harry just needs to be.”

“Maeve, this is both Harry’s and Severus’ life at stake if we don’t get him to safety.”

“Severus won’t kill Harry… Not if I put myself between them.” Her face was so sure, so very sure, that Remus blanched and sank the rest of his glass, bitter though the taste may have been.

“Severus has to kill Harry.”

“But if I…” She set her glass down. “What, Remus? What are you saying?”

The door flew inwards, a rush of cold air swirling into the bar making the fire flare and die again. Maeve looked round and was about to hail the new arrival when she saw who he was with. She instantly withdrew into the safety of the snug and turned her hair from red to black.

“What’s the matter?” Remus asked, craning his neck slightly to see who she was looking at. Her hand clamped around his arm and drew him back into the warmth of the seating.

“What is he doing here with her?” she hissed.

“Who is it? She looks familiar.”

But Maeve didn’t get the chance to tell him because the table began to vibrate, making the sediment in her wine rise, and Remus looked around to find the source of the tremor. Other customers had also notice the gentle rumble beneath the floor of the pub and some were standing up in agitation.

“I don’t like this,” Remus said, beckoning her to leave her seat.

“It’ll be something simple,” Maeve insisted. “I really don’t want Roderick to see me until I find out why he’s entertaining her.”

“Seriously, Maeve. I don’t think you have a choice.”

The normally reticent barman ignored Roderick, who was about to place an order, and immediately scrambled over the bar to escape the chasm that had just opened at his feet. Maeve resisted Remus’ attempts to pull her out of the snug in favour of watching Roderick and his new companion as they hurriedly backed away from the bar.

“It’ll be Death Eaters!” the grizzled old woman who had just shot up from her chair by the door yelled. “Save yourselves.” She threw herself at the nearest man, who happened to be rather inebriated and dropped her hopeful body with alarming speed.

The barman was at the door, followed by a wave of panicking customers, Roderick and his companion amongst them. Remus was grappling with Maeve and finally succeeded in pulling her free of her hiding place.

“He’s gone,” Remus said, pushing her towards the door. “Let’s just get out.”

“But I don’t want him to see me,” she insisted, as Remus steered her out. The building shifted again, leaning towards the bar area, and glasses slid from the tables.

“I don’t want to see you buried beneath this pub!”

Bricks and mortar creaked and left their stations as the earth pulled the foundations ever closer. With a surprising show of chivalry, Remus scooped her up, just as the ground finally slithered towards the ever-increasing hole. He staggered towards the door, fighting the momentum of the collapse, which was trying to tug them both into the rumbling rubble that was cascading into the opening.

“Put me down,” she said, wriggling free from his grasp and giving him stability that he didn’t have with her in his arms. “This is no time for heroics.”

“It’s not heroics,” he puffed, as his feet scrabbled for firm ground. “It’s survival.”

Maeve reached what was left of the twisting door jamb and turned just in time to see Remus lose his unsteady footing and stagger backwards towards the promise of serious injury or, even worse, death.

Wingardium Leviosa!” she cried hurriedly, holding tight to her wand and hoping she had the strength to carry him to safety. Remus was lifted from the rising dust and moved towards her as she tried her best to hold her strength.

“Disapparate!” she shouted. “Just get out!”

“And leave you here!” He wobbled in the air as he spoke, her cry breaking her concentration.

“I’ll get out, but this is draining me…” Her wand arm wavered again and Remus dipped and began to fall. Maeve cried out again for him to Disapparate but was powerless to do anything other than watch as he fell towards the swirling dust that occupied the space where the floor had once been.

With mounting horror she watched his dull eyes look towards her with a silent plea for her to leave and save herself. Maeve stepped forward, expecting the uneven ground to throw her off balance, but instead she found firmness supporting her feet. The dust was settling, its incessant ebb and flow stilled by a breath of wind that pressed calm on everything.
Her eyes were blurred by the prickle of dust that the wind carried to them and for a moment she was blind to her surroundings.

As she gradually recovered her vision she found, to her complete astonishment, that Remus was sitting on the ground, rubbing a bumped shin, while the rest of the pub was slowly drifting back to normality. Chairs were righted, the bar reformed and the low hum of the Wizarding Wireless that played in the corner once more flirted with the empty pub. She looked a Remus’ dust-peppered form and shook her head, as if trying to clear the particles of confusion from her brain.

“What happened?” she asked, glancing from Remus to the vast expanse of normality that now surrounded them.

“I have no idea,” he replied, pulling himself up from the ground using a nearby table. “But whatever it was, it was powerful magic.”

The door creaked open and both immediately turned. Facing them was a man neither of them knew and Remus immediately leapt to the defensive, while Maeve kept her own wand by her side.

“There’ll be no need for that, lad,” the newcomer said in a fearless voice. “You can put it back in yer pocket. They’ve gone. Got what they came for, by the look of things.”

“I’m sorry,” Maeve said, looking at him with a quizzical expression. “Who are you?”

His grizzled face broke into a smile and he walked towards her with an outstretched hand. “Aye, couldn’t expect you to know that, fer all yer special abilities. Albert Gryps, pleased to meet you.”

As she gripped his hand, Maeve felt a bolt of heat shoot up her arm but when she looked at him he seemed ignorant of the fact. “Maeve Snape,” she replied. “And I think I’m pleased to meet you. This is Remus Lupin.”

“I know who he is,” Albert said, nodding informally in Remus’ direction. “Seen ‘im once or twice before. But this isn’t the right time fer this. How about we make our way back up to the castle and have a little chat?”

The door opened once again and the barman poked a wary head into his pub. Blinking against his confusion he looked at the old man first.

“Evenin’” Albert said pleasantly. “’Ad a lucky escape, haven’t yer?”

The barman blinked even more rapidly and couldn’t find his voice in time to answer. Albert doffed his cap as he led Maeve and Remus from the pub into the gathering crowd that had been drawn by the sound of dark magic erupting at the Hog’s Head. There was now no sign of Roderick and his companion and they were able to pass almost unnoticed into a night that was now untroubled by commotion of any kind.

They walked silently until the shadow of Hogwarts began to loom ahead of them and Albert suddenly paused.

“I think you might want to warn that ‘usband of yours that he’s in danger of being betrayed.” His face was clouded by the darkness but Maeve could feel the urgency in his words. “I ‘appened to speak to someone earlier that’s in the know, so to speak.”

“Betrayed. By whom?” Maeve lit her wand and could see the man’s face plainly in its unrelenting light.

“By a chap goin’ by the name of Draco Malfoy. Know him, do you?”